I keep trying to make you into someone you’re not. I can’t see the magic within you and instead, am trying to inject magic into you. I can’t give you the love you deserve, because everyone deserves someone who loves them for who they are, and not the person they could be.
I have terrible lifestyle habits that make me a burden to be with. I chew too fast, swallow too often and eat way too irregularly. Some days I can get full just by looking at chocolate and on others, I can devour bags of chips and packets of noodles.
I have way too much emotional baggage. Everyone has a past. But mine has so many after-effects that you simply don’t want to deal with. Trust me. Although I can’t even trust myself. I am full of self-hatred, lacking of self-respect, filled to the brim with insecurities and empty to the core when it comes to character.
My anxiety and mood swings make it seem as though you’re dealing with two people all the time. My panic attacks are not easy to deal with and on days when you’re so overwhelmed with your own problems, you won’t have time for mine.
And the final reason why, is the way I look at you.
You see, on the days when I don’t know what to say we are, I say instead, how you make me feel. Safe, secure, smart.
On the days when I wonder why I still go to him, I think about instead, how he helped me live. Spontaneously, adventurously, affectionately. Happily.
He is my writing material. My inspiration. My laughing gas. While you, are my spellcheck. He is the nail and hammer that chipped away at my walls, and are the supporting beams I’ve placed whilst rebuilding them. He is the crook of the arm I’d like to slip my fingers into. With you, it’s the occasional accidental knocking of the elbows, hands always tucked deep into my pockets. He is the spontaneous walks during which my innate trust in him makes me tell him my inner most secrets but you are the prepared topics and stowed away questions. He is the one who taught me how to love selflessly, act more responsibly, and speak less crudely. You taught me, math.
He added colors to my palette while you are the still canvas. In any relationship, he was always the initiation, taking the lead, proposing activities — while you are always the response. The passive nod of the head and blind following of the leader. He used to be the relentless wind that kept coming even though I was half-heartedly pushing it away but you, you are the air that I’m so used to that I don’t even remember you exist on some days.
If you two were plants, he’d be the tree while you’d be the seedling. He came and planted himself deep inside my heart ages ago, and now, even though I’ve met you, there’s hardly enough space left for you.
If my heart were a jewel, you’d be the safe I’d put it in but he’d be the thief who could steal it. What use is a jewel locked up and protected, when there is someone who could recognize and realize the potential value of it?
If you two were games, he’d be minesweeper while you’d be solitaire. Because he is thrilling, risky, thought provoking, and what are the odds of winning that game if you weren’t skilled enough? But you, although entertainment, can bore after a game too long.
There are reasons though. When he listens, he remembers. You don’t make enough of an effort to. He makes me feel special. With you, it is me being with you that is special. He makes plans for the future. With you, there is no future.
But he is also gone.
And you are always here for me. I wish that could be enough.
But I am so sorry. It’s hard to fill a cup with water when it’s already full, just like how I can’t put you in my heart when it’s packed with someone else. Just like how I’m not the one for you, you aren’t the one for me too.
I am not who you’re looking for. I can’t be, and won’t be.