A/N. I'm going to keep this as short as possible (aka the most i can fit in 150 words or less). I'm so glad I checked this competition, because I've had this piece sitting in my laptops notes ever since I first saw it, imperfect and uncompleted. I'm not sure how I feel about this, because it's idealising my emotions and placing them in a dramatised situation. But that's how love feels, isn't it?
I actually chose to write about love because the guy I like (aka the fifth) just left, and moved away. It was only three weeks ago that I sat in a cab, crying my heart out because I hadn't even told him and God I missed him so much. It's getting better. Not perfect, but better. ( I REALLY LIKED HIM OKAY GOSH T^T ) I've also been the kind of person to fall in love (really it's more like 'like') easily, and I've had way to many that have ended badly. My life is like a less dramatic series of Taylor Swift songs. I really don't know how true love feels like, but I hope to find out someday. I hope that it's beautiful.
Love is really what has shaped me as a person. Every love I have brings me a new mind and a new heart. It's the only thing that's really been significant enough to write about. I'm sorry if it seems irrelevant, but to my fragile little heart, it's not. It's just me.
This is getting too long, so I'll end it here. I hope you enjoy the story!
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Her heart is a mess of pieces, haphazardly thrown together. She continues to chip them off and place them in new, undiscovered nooks, as she delves into the pain, twisting it into unwritten tragedies. It brings forth a sort of, satisfaction?, as she looks at these pieces of her, painstakenly wrenched out of her for the cruel, cruel world to see. For the world to see the fruits of the pain it has led her into.
She’d gone through life with a long string of infatuations, too short to amount to anything more than regret.
It started with the first love.782Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmvJpfFQTWl
Really, it couldn’t even be called love, it was more just a glorified crush, but in her young, naïve eyes, his caramel hair and hazel eyes and waifish smile were enough to send her tripping into the abyss of infatuation. She loved and loved and loved from afar, confiding in no one but the shadows that crept into her room each night like an interested audience. Instead, she pushed her brighter, better, best friend into it, ignoring the pang that hit her whenever she saw them. Looking back on it, he wasn’t worth any of it. But back then he had been, hadn’t he.
And so she learned to be independent, not reliant on anyone but herself.
The next one hadn’t been much better.782Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL84waiHgIy
He’d been a mixed child, with olive skin and half-lidded eyes and a drowsy smile. His presence engulfed her, enveloping her in a warmth that had her addicted at first sight. She craved for him there, did anything to be around him, all under the guise of dislike. He showed her things, new things that she’d never seen, never known. In forethought, maybe she should have not seen them, but she hadn’t had that in mind. All that mattered was him. Was it even worth it? She didn’t know back then, she still didn’t.
She vowed never to change herself again for a man. She knew she wouldn’t -couldn’t- keep that promise.
The third, she didn’t even know.782Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbb8out9vcd
She admired him from afar, jealousy burning in her heart as he became closer and closer to another girl, the opposite of her. The few moments she spent with him were precious, but in the end, they too dissipated. Her love for him faded away until it was only a remnant of the time gone past. It was as short as her childhood flings, but it still meant as much as that short time did to her.
Those that were outside would never find their way into her heart again.
The fourth would never see her the same way as she did him.782Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmHT1JCWDD5
He was mirthful, always joking, always having a smile dance on his lips. He made her happy, made her laugh, the first of all of them to do so. His joy was catching, and she found herself playfully bantering with him at a moments notice, not worried about what he’d think of her or what the consequences of her words and actions. This love soon ebbed away to embarrassment and jealousy, as it was soon apparent that his affections were directed elsewhere. But she wasn't bitter, because the other girl was a nice one, and they were cute together. She convinced herself of that.
She couldn't be selfish or naïve, she learned then. Affection could never be reciprocated for her.
Then there was the fifth.782Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡctraHsp7De
He was angelic. It wasn't in appearance, but in manner. His eyes were innocent, his laugh was light, his heart was kind. She fell, hard. He was the perfection she could never achieve, an imperfect anomaly, and she fell for that idealised version of him that could never be there. Soon, the romanticised version of him in her mind fell to pieces, but she still loved. He was just amazing. He was a ray of light in the midst of a self-induced darkness. Her feelings never faded, there wasn't time for that. He was the most tragic. He left, without her saying a word, without her leaving a clue of her feelings. And then, all she had were a collections of "I should have..."s and "What if?"s. He hurt the most.
It was then that she regretted. She realised that the worst pain was separation, and not unreciprocation. She wished for a different ending.
And after each love, she picked herself back up, a new wisdom in her mind, a new hole in her heart. And after each love, she propped herself back up, and fell into it once again.
And maybe it wasn't so cruel, because it opened her eyes and it opened her heart and made her cherish those memories of 'before'. And maybe it wasn't so bad.
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