Hiraeth
(n.) a homesickness for a home/place to which you cannot return, a home/place which maybe never was, a deep sense of longing, the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
A deep sense of loss and betrayal.
That's what I felt when you first broke me. I felt like I had lost a piece of myself, a fragment of my soul that I was unknown to. How could I have known? I was innocent and naive. I didn't know what was happening. I thought love was supposed to be unadulterated and pure, untouched, and unshared; I was wrong. You told me that you loved me, that it hadn't settled in in your mind that we were together, that it hadn't been very long. I cried all night while you cried harder, eager to convince me that it was a misjudgment on your part and that hurting me hurt you more than anything ever had. I succumbed to the extremity of my feelings for you, we went back to normal very fast.
6 months.
Your love had engulfed me. It made me feel like I was the happiest person in the world. I had fallen, and I had fallen hard. At the time, it felt like paradise. Words couldn't describe how and what I felt for you. I would do anything to make you feel special and loved. And I did. I loved with all my heart and soul, with every inch of skin that was well-ridden with goosebumps when you looked at me with all the adoration and care; you made me feel wanted. You made me feel like I was the most beautiful thing the universe had ever created. You made all my insecurities fade away in a second. You made me feel like I wasn't insane to want to sacrifice my all just to make you feel important and special. You made me feel like it was all worth it. That loving you would lead to a never-ending life of sunshine and sparkles and all the deranged, albeit sweet promises that you had made. It was a beautiful mirage that I had wholly submerged myself in. It was anything but true.
Utter shock. Unexpected deceit. Insurmountable Sadness.
A sadness so deep that I couldn't bring myself to accept what had just happened. I tried to avoid it, wanted to check it up with you. But you tried covering it up. And then you lied. Lied straight to my face. But the last time had made me a little more guarded, and so I delved deeper.
It broke me. It truly did. I tried breaking it off with you, but you wouldn't listen. Wouldn't let me go. Said you couldn't just be friends with me when all you wanted to do was pull me close and kiss me when I was in front of you because you loved me so much. It was a long and painful night. An even longer and arduous week for me, the details of which I carefully hid from you; to avoid making you sad. To avoid making you feel guilty. I cried, and I cried. I kept hurting, and all I wanted to do was disappear.
"Was I not enough?", this is what I had asked you when you had first hurt me. This time, it was even harder to ask. How could I have asked you when all you did was make me feel like I was all you needed? And then you forced me to act normal with you and to never mention that you had fucked up by trying to show me that I was in the wrong when I hadn't done anything. Accused me of lying to your face when I hadn't. Acted like a hypocrite, got possessive over nothing. Said you knew you were forcing me but didn't care. Said it'd be over if I didn't comply.
It was already over in my mind, I had lost all respect for you.
Devastation. Anger. Heartbreak.
The final straw.
The final straw in the part of my mind that I kept well-guarded and hidden from all of your manipulations.
You were going through a hard time. I was there for you. I told you I loved you, and I protected you. Defended you. You said to me that you were sorry for how you had been acting recently and that you knew nothing else except for the fact that you loved me. That nothing else seemed real to you except for the overwhelming amount of love you had for me and that I was amazing. That nothing meant more to you than my existence. You said you loved me the most and agreed to the fact that I loved you more. Words that would melt the mellow heart of a lovestruck teenager. I was ecstatic with joy, you were so precious to me. You said you had done something to a friend a while ago, and you were feeling guilty about it. Said you couldn't tell me about what it was, but you wanted to apologize to that person because you didn't have the guts to tell them so. That you hoped things would go back to the way they were with that person and that the situation hadn't harmed or affected anyone. You assured me it wasn't me and that you felt like you had wronged the person, and it wasn't always easy to talk. That you'd cried so much that you were tearing up now just thinking about it.That it wasn't your thing to tell.
It was.
I found out later that day that you'd yet again lied to me about something. Something big. Words were thrown around. Feelings were hurt.
We went back to normal because detachment is hard.
Things had started to look better. I was broken, so very broken. But I let nobody know about it. I wanted to protect you. I tried to save you from judgment. I should have tried saving you from yourself instead. And then, as usual, you fucked up.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
No shock. No surprises.
Just numbness. Anger. Rage.
You had kissed me that day and told me that you loved me so much and I was perfect. You wanted nothing more as long as you had me in your life. I believed you. How could I not? I hadn't ever felt love before you, and so I kept convincing myself it was real. That the look of pure adoration in your eyes when you gazed at me was pure and genuine.
That day, I felt an enormous amount of disgust for you. You were suddenly repulsive to me. What you had done was out of bounds. Making me feel loved as you did what you did? I don't know if you ever considered me a human being because how could you possibly let a person go through so much torture and pain in the guise of being in love with them? You treated me like a goddess, protecting me from the horrors of the world and, most importantly, yourself. I didn't want to be a goddess. I didn't want to be revered. I wanted to be loved. Madly, deeply and most importantly: genuinely.
Things kept going on. A lot of things happened. So many unwanted things. Things that terrify me to my core. This saga of betrayals, lies, hurting, and deep resentment smartly disguised in the form of unconditional love kept going on for a while. I was insane, you had driven me insane. I wasn't myself anymore. I was a terrified soul who needed nothing more than to be told that it would all be okay. That I was worth everything. That never happened. I spiraled.
Hiraeth.
All I feel is hiraeth.
But not for a particular place. Not for a specific something. Not for a certain someone.
No.
I have a hiraeth for the old me. The version of me that was untainted by your version of 'love.' The version of me that was filled to the brim with ebullience, a version of me that wasn't quick to judge people who spoke up about you not being right for me. A version of me that could have avoided getting into anything with you if only she was more cautious.
Sometimes, I think of what would have happened if I hadn't delved deeper into all the lies that you had told me. Of what would have been if I had chosen to blindly believe all the lies that you had fed me. Would the guilt have consumed you? Would you have confessed to me? I don't know, and I guess I'll never know. And maybe, deep inside, I had already known that you didn't deserve me, that I was worth a lot more than all the horrible things you put me through. And whereas I am a much stronger version of myself now, a person that I am proud of, I wish some things just wouldn't have happened.
My hiraeth to return to the point of my existence where your existence didn't matter just to erase you is as robust as your never-ending tendency to hurt me.
My hiraeth is greater than anything I have ever felt for you, which makes me question one thing:
Was my hiraeth for you actually real?
