The Truth About Falling In Love With Your Head Instead Of Your Heart

We Looked Nothing Like Love

i. it was either acknowledging we were living in hell and calling it home, pretending nothing was out of ordinary in that relationship we called a residence, or trading in the heat in houston for that of new orleans. hand grenades on bourbon sounded a lot better than the ones i kept dodging, the ones that kept exploding and i kept ignoring. the same ones you kept throwing.

ii. i should have known better. should have known that hoping for pink skies would only lead to you contaminating my favorite city. there’s all these pictures i have from that trip and pictures from other places and times, and i wish i could excise you from each. i wish you weren’t present in some of my favorite memories and i guess this is just one more thing to add to my list of reasons for hating you.

iii. i hated you so damn much, even then, because i loved you. because given the choice between running back to the devil’s arms and cleansing my body in a cerulean sea full of hope and things that that felt a lot like the universe’s promises, i’d choose arms that did not want me every single time. i’d choose hands that broke me more often than they’d touch me. between happiness and misery, i’d choose misery every time, because being happy would mean not having you in my life.

iv. there was this moment on the corner of royal and st. peter where you kissed me for absolutely no reason. something so unlike you, something so much like the beginning. and then you bought me these skull drawings i said reminded me of mexico and frida in front of st. peter’s cathedral. i thought that maybe little moments like this were worth all the bad things. that maybe beauty didn’t come without pain.

v. back home you’d hurt me, only to keep me sedated, only to hurt me again. and i realize this sounds a lot like being drugged, sounds a lot like under the influence, sounds a lot like addiction, like a nasty little habit, and i’m not sure if it was you or me who was nastier. all i know is that i loved like religion, loved you with blind faith and without reasons to. all i know is that you were incapable of feeling anything. i’m still not sure what’s worse, being the executioner or the martyr.

vi. when all is said and done, we looked nothing like love. nothing like the english novels i grew up on. nothing like i would ever want for anybody. nothing like the stories dreams are made of. we looked a lot like raven skies, like hail crashing down, like the split second you can see lightning. beauty is so fleeting, beauty can kill, and i’m still carrying around the damage from being struck. TC mark

Natalia Vela

poet and bruja. still checking books out from your local library.

Bring magic to your Instagram feed ✨

You look back and you just feel stupid.
You can’t forgive yourself for falling
or believing all the lies.
You reread every text.
You relive every memory.
And it all starts making sense —
he never wanted love.
He only wanted attention.
He only wanted validation.

“It’s just wondrous how every time I go through some emotional trauma, your posts are so relatable and it gives me so much hope. I love the writing and the photos. It’s all a pleasure to read. I can’t thank you enough for it, really.” — DM from @ThoughtCatalog Instagram follower

Bring beauty to your feed

A Complete Guided Journal For Healing Your Own Life

This is your life.

You are the only one who decides how it goes.

Click Here
We Looked Nothing Like Love is cataloged in , , , , , ,