Hint of Purple

Promise Ring

We weren't meant to last. I knew that from the beginning, you knew it before our hearts met, but we naively ignored the red flags our heads vigorously waved in front of our lovestruck gaze. "Blinded by love," as they would say. Ha! What utter bullshit. Though, coming face to face with the undeniable misery that was our doom had definitely blindsided me.

I caress the promise of forever you left on my finger and I laugh, with despair dripping down my face, because deep down inside the cracks left behind by the distance, it was bound to be this way. Tightly bound to the train heading towards the edge of an endless pit of nothing, because what false hope did I put upon this relationship to think we could've survived it? We didn't. We never could. Yet you left a remnant of our idiotic journey with me, a physical proof of our failure, a hot metal-brand that left a visible imprint of what might've been if we weren't us.

A promise of lighthearted laughter, of very-little tears, of never-ending affection, of cherished memories, of a life that I desperately wanted for me and you. A promise you never intend to ruin. A promise to honor my heart, to protect my sense of security, to stop the world from spinning so we could exist. A promise; something I never wanted to make because, quite frankly, it always lead to disappointment. But not this one, you said, this one was real. This one was tangible.

Again, Ha! I laugh at the face of my own stupidity for believing that.

Once the promise of forever was removed from my finger, it slipped through the cracks. I tried to cover the gaping hole in my chest with a searing smile as I boasted about its absence. I will be alright without that...thing weighing on my conscience. I will be alright without your smile, your warmth, your stupid, gross, infuriating love.

But then they took one look at me and I crumbled.

I crumbled.

I wasn't ok. I wanted to be, but I wasn't. And that's ok. I believed in the disheartening notion that I am incapable of loving someone as I have with you. I believed in my unworthiness of romance more than I've believed in the promise you made and abandoned. Pathetic, really. I was quick to write apology letters about my mellow state faster than writing love letters to you. I'm used to apologizing to you for being emotional. I'm used to apologizing for being emotional. In that moment, I was wildly floundering in my feelings and I almost apologized for it. Almost. Because fuck it, and fuck you.  I'm entitled to my tears, to my heartbreak, to getting over you.

I kept the ring, fighting the initial urge to hurl it across the choppy waters of the sea like those cliche sad scenes in romantic movies. In hindsight it was possible since the sea is a ten minute drive from my house. Alas, it's carelessly thrown inside a pouch within the messy drawer of my dresser; an accurate representation of how much I could care less about its not-so sparkling exterior and broken symbolism; a part of my past I'll most likely keep but not so likely to cherish.