Heaven

A curse etched in the wind. (In heaven everything is fine).

There’s a unique kind of heartbreak that comes from knowing that you are the problem. That it has always been you. And it doesn’t matter what you do or say but you will never change that. I had this brief thing with a guy I had known since I was fifteen. We were each other spectators, silently watching each other’s lives from afar until one day he had the courage to ask me out and I had reluctantly accepted —not because I didn’t want to but because I was scared. I knew that this would change everything. And it did.

I remember his eyes. There was nothing particularly special about them, but they were oddly similar to mine — and what I saw in them scared me more than I could admit at the time. In his eyes, I saw perhaps the beginning of what some might call love. I particularly remember when he left the table to pay the bill. I didn’t know that he had gone to do that but when he came back he had told me that he had already. I remember that I had that urge to smile, but I didn’t allow myself. Instead I had told him “I thought we were splitting the bill.” He smiled — one of those beautiful smiles that stays with you forever. He looked down at me (I was sitting) and in his eyes I saw something so intriguing, it made me uncomfortable yet the feeling it gave me was ethereal. Throughout the whole date, I avoided looking into his eyes because I couldn’t believe someone could look at me and see something of worth. Subconsciously I knew that I would destroy all of that — it was only a matter of when and how. After that, we would talk almost every day. He would call me Beautiful, Love — all these things I’d never claimed I was but he saw them in me. Leaving that date I wasn’t sure what I felt, however I felt something I just couldn’t put into words and that uncertainty destroyed us. He needed assurance, something I couldn’t provide him. Something I hate myself for.

I tried being what I thought he wanted me to be and I lost him in the process. And there, right there I realised that I was the problem. He left just like he came without looking back. I cried that night I tried not to but I did. I think I cried more because I had realised that I was capable of destroying everything he liked about me than the ‘actual’ losing him. His departure was proof of what I was capable of, of how I could unravel the parts of myself he once loved. And I now I know I’m just someone who inspires disgust. Someone when known is never loved but despised.

I have been pondering and thinking about what I am, how disturbed can I truly be to destroy in a matter of weeks, a perception of me he only knew. Someone I had been vulnerable too, more than I had ever been to anyone. But he disregarded that like everyone in my life. He had said he understood me, he wanted me and I destroyed that. I did that, not him, not anyone else, me. I did that. But what I must understand now about myself is that I am deeply unhappy. Everything I touch I destroy, that’s who I am. I’m bad person.

I want to be sincere with myself and with those reading. I hate it here. I really do. I hate the fact that I destroy every good thing in my life. I hate pretending I am fine when I’m not. And more than anything I hate myself – more than I hate this place. When I go I will leave a trail of destruction behind me. And if by some sort of miracle I am remembered, they will remember the harm I caused and my purpose in this world will be fulfilled. They will call my name into the heavens and the sky will roar it’s displeasure because I brought my curse to them and now it’s etched in the wind.

Inside my mind there is a war I’m not ready to fight. I choke on the words that once made me strong. How will I ever get out? How will I ever be seen? Have a right to know, don’t I? I need to know what is wrong, why do I keep doing this to myself? I had something that could have lasted a lifetime and I destroyed it. What do I do after this?