Destined By The Waves

Broken

Faith

Have you ever hated yourself so much, that you felt like every part of you deserves to be pulled out mercilessly from your body, and broken down meticulously into tiny specks of dirt, so that even the essence of you becomes invisible to the whole living world? 

No? Well, I have been feeling this way for over three days now.

After enduring three torturous days of self loathing and regret gnawing at my existence, after resigning myself to seventy two hours of self inflicted pain and loneliness, I still continue to feel awful, and this terrible feeling keeps getting worse every moment.

Three days ago, when I returned from college, I shut myself up in this room and severed all contact with the outside world. No college, no office, no phone calls, no messages, nothing. I have just been staring at the pale, white walls around me and replaying that whole day in my mind on a loop, lamenting the moments I wish I had lived differently.

Rosie tried calling my mom a few times in these days, but I told mom I was either too busy reading, or working, or sleeping, so I'd call Rosie back later. Obviously, later became never. I hope Rosie would understand though, she always does.

Thankfully my mother hasn't asked me to go to college yet, she thinks that I still need more rest to heal from my concussion. And I am glad for it, because I don't have the mental strength to lie to her about why I don't want to go back to college just yet. Back to the same corridors that I ran away from like a coward.

"Bet she won't be as good as Alice in bed though!"

My mind internally cringes at the memory for a millionth time.

For months I had asked myself this question - why Greg chose to throw away what we had, for a fling with Alice. I had analysed several theories and debated with myself over several reasons for so many days, but I never could have thought it boiled down to something as basic as that. How didn't I see it?

Every time with him was just... regular. We had no sparks, no butterflies, no excitement, no attraction. Not even in the beginning. We were just too attached to each other, or maybe just I was. There was nothing more to it, not from my end anyway. To me, sex was just a routine, a way to stay attached to him. I did enjoy it, of course, but probably just because I didn't know what I was actually missing on.

I mean, I never felt any pull towards him.

I never felt for him the way I feel for Joy. An unnerving need to touch him, to feel his skin against mine, to taste his irresistible lips with mine, or to worship every inch of his body with mine. To feel a fire ignite under my skin by just a simple brush of his hand. To feel the bliss when his lips linger over my forehead. To feel the dizziness when his warm breath fans against my aroused skin.

Joy somehow makes me feel both calm and wrecked at the same time. Like I could lose myself in his honey brown eyes and never want to be rescued. Like my soul finally came home to his strong, caring arms and I would never need a vacation.

Greg never made me remotely feel any of that. So why do I hate Greg so much? His arrogant ass just realized sooner what my sorry ass realized so much later. That we were not meant to be. 

Now that I think hard about it, I realize I don't really hate him at all. I never did. My hatred is all reserved for my own self.

I hate myself because I trusted him blindly. I hate myself because I gave him my all, even when he gave me nothing except sweet lies. I hate myself because I let him make a fool out of me, for months! I really don't hate him, I hate only me! And, I hate me so much, I don't let anybody come near the real me or see the vulnerable, scared and pathetic side of me!