People are like markers. Some are washable, and some aren’t. It’s the permanent kind that are more dangerous. They are the reason why our mothers warned us about drawing on the walls or on our faces with sharpies when we were younger, so when the time came, their echoing voices would make us think twice before allowing someone to permanently scribble their name on our hearts.
The first time I fell in love, I allowed it. When he tattooed his name on my untamed heart, I didn’t even flinch. The pain was intoxicating. And now he’s long gone, and here I am, with a badly made tattoo and a mouthful of resentment.
Neil Gaiman once said, “love takes hostages”, and I don’t think he or anyone else could’ve said it better. Love is jumping off a plane with a faulty parachute, that might open or might not. It’s a leap of faith, and to be honest, the most aggressive kind.
Years pass and faces change, but some names remain.
I have tried, hard, to avoid becoming a ghost town.
Don’t get me wrong, there is budding life within me and I am blooming with each passing day, but he left a deeply rooted ache that’s too engrained under my skin for me to completely heal, ignore or deny. Like knees that swell in winter. Like living with a lonely kidney. Like a broken bone than never set right. Things one can live with, but must first come to accept.
Some people, you never really come back from.
Life goes on, and it’s ok. You will kiss different lips and dance to different songs. An absence is an opportunity to test out your resilience. Time, really does heal all wounds.
Eventually, love will knock on your door once more. It will come back wearing a different cologne. Love might have a broader jaw and shorter legs. Love might not like tattoos. Love might play the ukelele and make really great soufflés. Love will be different. Love will be kinder. More gentle. Sometimes, love might stay. Will find your swollen knees and tainted heart, and will not mind. Will not ask questions. Will not look away. Love will understand, that some names stay even when people can’t.
We all have that person. The one filled you with passion and then fled.
Our great teacher. Our lesson. Our mourning. Do not confuse this person with a soulmate. It’s ok to think about them from time to time, so long as you don’t lose your balance. Some people, you always come back to, but for your own sake never stay with. Some names, are better left unspoken. Some hearts are better left inside Pandora’s box.