Monday, 20 February 2017

To The Girl Who's Never The One


Lately, I haven't really felt like blogging.
I haven't really felt like a lot of things, if I'm honest.
I haven't felt like getting out of bed some days, I haven't felt like me, and I certainly haven't felt like dating.
And now I keep thinking: what if I'm never ready?

For me it seems more and more that I'm destined to never be the one.
I always love too much and get torn apart. I give my all and it's never enough.
There's always someone better, younger, prettier.
And it never gets easier.

And now as I sit and nurse my permanently broken heart, the heart that every so often sheds a few broken layers only to reveal even deeper, more broken ones beneath the surface I wonder: 
what if this isn't the plan for me?

Maybe some of us are destined to be on our own, and the cards we're dealt don't necessarily mean the stereotypically happy fairytale ending. What if we're supposed to find our happiness in other sources?
What if the ones we love never really love us back and a life of solitude is what's been pre-destined?

Though it wouldn't be all bad - a life of solitude - building brick walls around my heart to stop it constantly shattering isn't really what I'd hoped for. I feel like I still have an awful lot of love running through my veins that is currently going to waste. 
But it seems like, for the moment in time at least, I'm destined to be a lone wolf.
And maybe that's what I need, because God knows right now I can't take any more heartache. I've had too many tears, too many nights lying awake torturing myself, too much misery to be able to take on much more.

Like the lines in my favourite ever poem:
'You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand.
Heart like a four poster bed. Heart like a canvas.
Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street'

Maybe this is the time I focus on self-love and see where it takes me. Maybe a further period of melancholy solitude is what I need.
Finding who I am before trying to find another.
More baths, more tea, more reading, more aiming for that place I can call my very own home. 
Less settling for people who don't see my worth.
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