One heart, a millon stories

One heart, a million stories

!Important! 

My dear readers, the following text contains statements, thoughts and feelings I did feel for a long time. I want you to know that every last word written here is true so I will not contain the truth from you. This text here lasted in my drafts for a month but the situation has changed in the last few weeks with me gaining information about the person that this text is about. I would like to stress that this person is not a good person but rather a manipulator and indeed an egoist and a toxic human being. Feelings and emotions which lead someone to see a specific person differently, often distort the reality and thats exactly what you will read in this text here. I distance myself from him and everything regarding him but I will not deny what I did feel at some point because that's what being human and being an author is about: Sharing moments.

Lots of love and have fun reading,
Finja <3 

-

I’m sick of writing stories about you. I am sick of thinking about you and I am especially sick of myself for doing so.

“Some mistakes get made that’s alright that’s okay, you could think that you’re in love when you’re really just in pain.”

You were my biggest mistake, my biggest sin, my biggest doubt and my biggest chaos.

I should be laughing at myself for I am writing this text about you at an ungodly time just because I listened to a song that reminded me of you.

I am sick.

I am obsessed.

I am crazy.

Maybe.

Yes. Maybe I am sick, maybe I am obsessed and maybe I am crazy.

Or maybe I am just in pain because I truly loved you.

That’s the second time I should burst out into laughter because how can you love someone you’ve never kissed or seen in person multiple times or someone you never really had?

But what else is- was it, when not love?

What else drives someone to sickness, obsession or craziness if not love does?

I shouldn’t be writing this, I shouldn’t, and I know it but yet, I am here trying to express my feelings, my thoughts, trying to finally forget you.

You know what’s the worst part of this?

I wanted a redemption. Wanted to write a text about you one last time with your name and a fitting alliteration on my blog. Where everyone could see it. Could see the truth about you.

But then again, what is the truth?

Is it that you permanently made me doubt myself? Because you did.

Is it that you put yourself as a priority? Because you did.

Or is it that you insulted me? Because you did.

Is the truth that you were the one making me feel safe after everything that has happened to me? Because you did.

Is it that I would tell you anything and everything because I knew you’d listen? Because you did.

Or is it that I finally felt this feeling again which I thought I had abandoned?

I wish I could address you by name, but I can’t.

Your name is forbidden.

Not only in my texts but also with my friends and all these strangers I met.

Your name in my mouth turned from a poem into poison.

It truly did but was it because you actually are or were the monster I imagined, the one my people talk about or was it because it was easier for me to end things?

I don’t know to be honest.

I just know I have so many questions I would like to ask you.

Did you really like me?

Is or was this situation as hard for you as this is for me?

Did you ever really care?

This is where my doubt appears because you gave me all the signs that you didn’t.

Your actions spoke for you.

I want to scream all these facts into your face, show you every little bit of information I have to show you that I am not the cruel person being you think I am.

This here is a mistake.

A mistake like you?

I should stop but I can’t.

I should end my writing for now hoping I will not continue this text about you because every time I close my eyes, I tell myself that this is not what you deserve.

In either way.

-

You know what? Fuck you.

Fuck your stupid ass, your stupid music and your stupid plant.

FUCK YOU!!!!

Okay, now that my intention became clear I want to tell you why I now think you deserve that.

A week has passed since I wrote to you the last time but in these seven days you were spinning in my head like a daydream. Or a little bug you can’t get rid of. More likely the second one since you would be a nightmare if you’d be a dream at all.

You may now wonder, what the fuck happened?

Glad that you asked, I will tell you.

I got drunk.

Drunk with cheap white wine at a birthday party with girls my age. Girls who I have told our story.

This is such a joke to even consider it our story since I am the one who is still dealing with the memories.

And I swear to you those girls are better than any therapist you could find in this world, and they all told me the same thing.

To forget you.

And believe me when I tell you I am more than used to hearing these words in regard to your name.

And believe me when I tell you that I tried to erase your stupid ass, your stupid music, and your stupid plant.

But how can you forget a memory that has burned deep into your heart?

I tried to explain that chaos in me and I know they listened, and they probably understood but they didn’t really understand it.

They didn’t understand that I am a mess, a mess you have created but oh lord- messes can be so pretty if you ask me.

I shouldn’t ask you because we both know what your answer would be. What number I am on a scale from 1-10.

If you will ever read this (I hope not) -, yes, I still remember that one.

Not because it hurt hearing it but because hearing it from you.

And yes, I know you either were just honest or you just meant it as a joke, but it was no joke for me if you look at my past.

And yes, maybe you forgot that one or maybe you just didn’t care because it wasn’t meant so serious.

But did you mean anything serious at all?

Was it serious when you told me that you just want me to be happy no matter what, was it serious when you said that you want me by your side and was it even serious at all when you told me that you have feelings for me?

I don’t want you to be the villain of my story.

But maybe you are.

Maybe you are not.

But if we look back to that party yesterday, where I grabbed that bottle of wine out of one simple reason, it gets clear that you are at least the enemy.

You know what that one reason was?

Three simple words.

It was you.

To be specific, it was another stupid song that my brain automatically connects with you since you used to play it on your stupid little livestreams.

And I didn’t want to think of you, so I danced. Danced with the girls I didn’t know with that bottle in my hand and the content in my mouth.

And just as I did that, I realized something.

I am stupid too.

Because I tried to reconnect my brain to remember this dance with those girls whenever I would hear that specific song.

I tried to burn another memory in my heart.

A sentence.

Forget and don’t forgive.

That’s what everyone says. What everyone tells me to do.

That is the only right thing to do if I think about it since you probably went on with your life after a few weeks and pretend like nothing has happened.

Do you now understand why I am so incredibly angry?

IT’S BEEN ONE FUCKING YEAR.

One fucking year since I blocked you because I tried to escape from negativity, one fucking year since I told myself it’s not that bad. One fucking year of not having you in my life anymore.

Wow sounds like you died.

I probably should say that you are dead to me but that would be a lie.

“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her.”, Hozier once said.

STOP CHASING ME YOU CREEPY ZOMBIE.

Okay jokes aside (I might still be a little drunk), you are chasing me. In my mind, my dreams and in people who look like you.

Yes, I am angry.

Of course I am angry, what else should I be if not angry? I am haunted by memories of you even though I was the one who just cut you off and you were the one who moved on just like that.

At least I assume so.

I did text someone you know a while ago who left me on read. Embarrassing enough for me already, but this text here is probably the peak of shame I can feel so never mind that. I have no clue if he told you about that or not or if the two are even in touch with each other.

Yes, I am angry.

I am angry that I said this would never work when you asked me.

I am angry that I said no when you wanted to drive by my home just to see me one more time before you would leave.

I am angry that I went to that stupid (but very cool I admit) exhibition instead of spending that day with you.

I am angry that you asked me about my feelings.

I am angry that you looked at me like you did.

I am angry that none of us could keep boundaries and crossed them multiple times.

I am angry that we fought as much as we did.

I am angry at your ex that she did what she did to you.

I am angry that you pushed that dagger in my heart when you told me about that one girl and what you did with her.

I am especially angry that you blamed me.

Twice as angry that you dared to repeat that sentence.

I am angry that I answered you when you tried to contact me again months later.

I am angry that I gave this thing between us another chance.

I am angry that you said you still have feelings for me.

I am angry that you promised you’d do anything to make me happy.

I am angry that you didn’t keep that promise.

I am angry that you didn’t put effort in our contact after that.

I am angry that you didn’t even try to reach out when I cut you off.

You never even asked why.

Did you do it out of respect because you noticed I blocked you or was it because in reality you didn’t really care?

I am angry that I do not know.

I am angry that you are my stupid little teenage love.

And I am especially angry that I am fighting with this shit for over a year now and you won’t let me go.

Or the other way around.

Maybe I don’t want to let you go.

Because even though you took so much from me, you also gave me so much at the start.

Friends say you’re an asshole.

Friends say you’re a manipulator.

Friends say that you’re a heartbreaker.

I say you’re just a boy who went through a lot and made mistakes.

And I am just a girl who went through a lot and made mistakes.

I once wrote a text about you, and you read it.

I told you that was how I thought about you and yes, that’s partly true.

But I was hurt at that point. I didn’t know what to do.

And here we are again.

Except for the difference I am writing down the truth of my heart.

Maybe I also did back then and maybe this here is like the biggest mistake I’ve ever made but hey “some mistakes get made, that’s alright, that’s okay.”, right?

If you’re the biggest misunderstanding in my life, you’re at least the best story line in it.

So yes, I am angry.

Angry that I can’t just forget and don’t forgive about you.

-

My heart is heavy.

It is heavy because this will be the last time, I am writing to you.

I would like to promise a forever regarding that but I can’t do that, and we both know that at this point.

I will be honest to you since I was honest with you this whole time.

I am shivering.

And I don’t know if it is because I am cold, tired or scared.

Because the truth is, I am indeed very scared.

Scared that you will find this.

I don’t know if I want you to find this or not.

But more likely is the answer no.

It just shows how much of a scaredy cat I am.

I know people always say I am so brave for being extroverted, for expressing my opinion, to fight against my sicknesses.

Oh yeah right, you don’t even know I am sick, the diagnosis came after we didn’t speak anymore.

I remember how we talked about my not well being and I remember you were so angry at me for I am doing so much, too much.

And I was angry at you because you were angry at me.

Now I think it was just worry that spoke out of you.

Or at least I hope so because I hoped that you cared for me.

That I was worth a worry.

You don’t need to worry anymore.

It is nothing bad, well too bad at least. There isn’t a cure, but it isn’t that much of a pain or struggle. I am fine.

I know I said that a lot but remember? I am honest here.

I remember I told you about how important to me all this work is in my life, and it still is.

I am happy with what I am doing.

But I am not happy with the way I handle this here.

Handle you.

But this is the point.

Yes, people always tell me how I am brave for this or for that, but the truth is I am not brave at all.

Would I be brave, I would have texted your friend again or the other one. Would have asked for your number and give you a call.

You have no idea how many times in the past year I wanted to send you a message. Most of the times I was drunk I admit.

And even right now your name is stuck in my throat, although I want to scream it to the world.

To my readers.

Ironic since everyone except for you will read this probably.

So Dear readers,

The time has come. I indeed went mad. I am writing a letter to the boy who put my world on the head, a letter he will never read. A boy who I always portraited as a monster, knowing I was in the wrong too. So yes, maybe he is an asshole, maybe he is a manipulator or a heartbreaker. And maybe he is what my friends say. But I learned one thing in the past year. It is not my point to decide that or to tell you what he might be.

Yes, he might be a manipulator, an asshole, a heartbreaker, he might be a monster with no real excuses, and he might have no heart.

But I can tell you what he certainly is from facts.

Yes, he is unfair sometimes, he is indecisive, he is someone who makes bad jokes and he is someone to hurt people, and who is very bad at apologising.

But he is also human. So, he indeed has a heart even if a million people say otherwise.

He is someone who cares deeply if he wants, he is someone who listens if he wants. He makes great music, is a great gamer and even though he is the worst at communicating, he is one in a million.

And yes, I don’t even know what makes him that special, he looks average, his character depends on his mood, his behaviour is like mood swings most of the time.

(To be fair I participated to that.)

But he was special to me.

He was and he still is, otherwise, I wouldn’t write this text.

He is special to me.

He is and he doesn’t know it. He thinks I hate him and a part of me probably does but not enough in the slightest bit.

I did cut him off in the end, that is true.

But not because I hate him or didn’t care about him.

I did it for me.

You might don’t understand, I don’t think he did himself so let me explain.

I was hurt.

I was vulnerable.

He did things I did not understand, and he said things I did not understand.

And both hurt more than I ever expressed or told him.

We fought a lot.

And with a lot I mean basically every second day over-

I don’t even know anymore. Some bullshit, I guess.

Yes, I was hurt and I was vulnerable and I didn’t show it because I had this feeling that I needed to prove something to him.

I don’t know exactly what.

Many things are running through my head now of things I wanted to prove.

I am not his ex.

I do not intend to hurt him.

I want to help him.

My aggression is worry too.

I was young when I met him. Younger than now, more naïve, and maybe younger than it is morally okay for some as a minor back then.

Before anyone thinks something wrong, no, we are five years apart, not more.

The last years taught me much.

I learned.

I felt.

I survived.

But maybe I took that naivety with me. Maybe I am still just naïve that his heart felt what mine felt.

That he cared like I did.

That he wasted only one thought about me in the last year.

So dear readers,

don’t fall in love with hope.

Nice excursion to my truest fans so back to you.

You know what I realized?

I can live without you, just something inside me is stubborn enough to want me to prove otherwise.

There were boys after you.

Blonde boys, tall boys, boys far away, boys with the most romantic dates, boys who are perfect in every way.

I am on dating apps regularly. Swiping right, getting a lot of matches, meeting up with nice boys, bad boys, boys who make me laugh or boys who make me cringe.

And yes, there were some where my heart was opening a little window for possibilities.

For what ifs.

But no blonde boy, tall boy, boy far away, boy with the most romantic dates, boy who is perfect in every way was you.

And I didn’t look at the nice boy, bad boy, boy who makes me laugh or boy who makes me cringe the way I looked at you.

Because our situationship how modern people call it these days was based on raw emotions rather than physical touch. And that made it so special to me.

You saw me laughing, you saw my crying, you saw me laughing and crying with you as the cause and you knew exactly what my soft spots were.

You may didn’t touch my skin, but you touched my soul.

Yes, I did kiss some of those boys. Yes, I did make out with some of them. Yes, there was heavy flirting and teasing but never was there more.

And yes, maybe I am just more sentimental or something, but this just strengthen my wondering of how you could take this one girl so easily.

I know she was older; she was prettier, and she was closer.

But I can promise you one thing, she didn’t care for you one whole year after you have rejected her later.

“You’re in my head. Always. Always. I just got scared away, away. I’d rather choke on my bad decisions than just carry them to my grave. […] I know there’s nothing left to cling to but I’m still calling out your name.”

James Arthur described my last year pretty much perfectly.

You know there are many days where I don’t even think about you.

Most days are way too busy to even think about anything else than the important matters.

But as soon as I find a calm moment in the bus or in my bed, outside or at my window, your face crosses my vision.

The funny thing about this is, you were the one who texted me after we ended contact the first time. In the nine hells I would have every right to do the same thing.

You want to know the truth why I didn’t do it?

After everything that has happened, I don’t want to ruin your life further.

I do not have a single clue whether I made your life better or worse with me being in it, but I can’t even answer that question for myself.

I didn’t text you because you probably moved on from that situationship and I am glad that at least one of us got away.

If there is a girl in your life, I truly do hope the best for you two.

I hope she feels only a tiny bit of what my heart has kept a secret because even that would be enough to last a hundred years.

It is funny that I am writing this part now.

My uncle died not even thirty-six hours ago and the first thing that crossed my mind was my grandma who is with him now.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t cry because I know he’s safe with her and it gives me just another excuse to visit the graveyard.

You know what’s funny?

The graveyard is some sort of my safe place even if that sounds weird.

I call myself mad every time again when I am talking to a stone in front of me, but the crazy thing is- it actually helps.

I do tell my grandma a lot of things but there is one thing that strikes me every time.

You were the first boy I ever told her about.

Regarding our history I can’t actually say what she would think of you. She probably would have wished hell and devils upon you a few times in our two years together, I am not sure what she would have said now.

Maybe that I need no man to be strong, which is true.

Perhaps she would have read a million tutorials on how to install Instagram and text on it to say something herself to you.

I wish I’d know.

I keep asking for a sign from maybe god or the universe or whatever is out there.

But it seems like I am indeed speaking with a void.

This leaves me here because the closest I can get to my grandma is by writing.

And preferably is English since I can express my emotions better if anyone here asked themselves why the language change.

My poetry, my words, are strong, and I know that.

But there are three words I have never said to anyone in that context where I meant it seriously.

Because no one deserved it before.

And after all our chaos I don’t think you deserve them either but some time ago I noticed that it would be a lie if I’d say that these words are not true.

They are true to me, my feelings, my heart and that pains me because I feel embarrassed and maybe even ashamed to admit it because factually you weren’t more than a situationship, someone I knew, someone on my screen, someone I never really touched.

I didn’t think it was even possible until a friend of mine explained to me that love is also just an emotion.

And like I said, I was so deep emotionally connected to you.

After all my suffering, my tears for you, my late-night messages to my friends, I think I can confirm it.

I love you.

I do and did (don’t expect me to say that again) and it is not fair for so many people. It took me months after the break to figure that one out.

I think in a way I always will and maybe that’s the part the people don’t understand.

After all, you saved me.

You showed me that there is more than what I had in my last relationship and even though we two in combination were the strongest poison which slowly affected my heart, my feelings seem to be poison resistant.

They say you have three true loves in your life for who you will always feel like that for them.

The first love, the love that brings chaos, drama and the most pain, and the staying one.

A long time I thought you were the second one until I noticed that this isn’t right. You are the first.

So, I’m afraid there will always be a piece left of you in me.

And I know that you do know this feeling from your ex so you might even agree.

I know your love language is music and this whole text is sung by me.

Moral of the story - Ashe

Work Song Refrain - Hozier

That way – Tate McRae

Mr. Brightside – The Killers

Stay – Hurts

Always – Gavin James

Daylight – David Kushner

You’d be smart enough to figure that one out with the text but this mystery will be abandoned with that text in a little box with a picture at the back of my blog, all dusty and forgotten.

Congrats, you’ve gotten your first love letter without even knowing.

I think this was necessary.

I do feel better since this is the first time I am truthfully dealing with my thoughts and wrote them down.

I still have questions.

I still have doubts.

But I am not afraid of the future anymore, not fighting with memories since I captured them in between the lines for me here.

Wherever you might be, whatever you might be doing, thank you.

Thank you for being the chapter in my life that is not just forget and don’t forgive, because I would never write that as an author.

I do forgive you.

And I forgive myself for being scared that you might find this or for feeling bad that I feel like I feel.

In the end we’re all just humans with one heart and a million stories to tell.

-

 

(P.S to my DEAR friends who read this, do not kill me pls. Yes, my eyes are especially on you Stevie.)