Angel of Music.

I met you when I never thought that I could feel for another man anymore; not in any way that I felt for him. And you helped me get over him. For that opportunity I will be eternally grateful. Both to you and to He who gave me you.

I prayed for an angel, to help me and to hold me and to show me the kindness and tenderness that my soul so greatly craved and needed. Who would help me through the mending of my heart and give me comfort. And maybe he sent me you. 

You certainly were an angel. You did all that and more. And my prayers felt like they were answered. You held me. And you gave me comfort. You helped me to get over him and all within three weeks of knowing you. And I thank God for sending me you. 

But why then did you have to be another broken heart waiting to happen? I accepted the fact that there was a possibility I would fall for someone else and that would help me get over him. And as long as I can get over him, if I got my heart broken again, maybe it would be a worth it price. I accepted that and I still hold onto that.

But why, why is it not possible to give me a balm that would not open new wounds? Do I need to bleed from somewhere new to close an old wound? Is that what it is going to be? Because I feel like I am falling for you and I am deathly afraid of that. I am afraid of getting hurt again, for fear that I will not recover again. For fear that you are really my last chance and with every heartbreak, my heart will grow more poisoned that it will no longer be able to accept love and happiness without destroying it all. 

I know you are wounded yourself. And you have your issues and your baggage. Your doubts and your acceptance that love will never happen for you. And I am afraid that that very acceptance is what has shut the door against me to enter. Because hopeless as it seems, to my chagrin I still believe and it frustrates me that you do not anymore. Perhaps you still do, some small but of you but I do not believe that I can be the one to revive that. I do not believe that I can be special enough and good enough to convince you to give me a try. 

And there are so many things I want to say to you but I hold myself back because I am afraid that they will fall on dead ears. Because I am afraid you won't care enough to know anyway like no one else has ever cared enough to know. 

All the compliments you've ever given me were about the physical aspects of our interaction. And you said a lot of bad things of my personality. It makes me fear that you will soon tire of me l, which now seems like such an inevitable eventuality as I cannot imagine what else I can give you when you seem to dissatisfied of my personality and so aware of all my character flaws. I will not be good enough to make you consider maybe taking a chance with me, and not moving to another part of the country. 

I know you've had your fair share of crazies in your life. But I cannot help but feel that all those crazies had their glamour, that special attraction about them that kept you with them; that kept you interested enough to stick around despite the drama and the hell that the relationship had descended into. And I don't have that. Why would you even consider me then? I'm a basket case myself. And not only that, I also lack the spark that they had. 

I don't believe that you will never find someone. What you lack is far less unattractive than what I lack. I believe you have met your match. Part of me is indignant. You should be fucking grateful that you actually met someone who actually believes what you tell me and yet is able to accept that and still like you and think of you fondly. But that doesn't make it so. 

Every time you mention my character flaws, it hurts me. It hurts me because I know they're true. And it hurts me because I wish I wasn't that way but I can't change. I don't know. It hurts me because it makes me feel like I'm not good enough for you and they just feel like confirmation that you will eventually tire of me and discard me like an old toy. I don't want to be a toy or a phase of your life. I want to mean something to someone. I want to be the one. 

You told my friend that you wish I was happy and cheerful like her. And that hurt me a lot. I am sorry that I am a cheerless, gloomy sap. That I can somehow suck all the energy out of the room with my insecurities and my fear. I am sorry that I seem to have lost my zest for life and all the things that made me interesting and unique. It reminds me that I used to have that; to have all that in spades. But I lost them all along the way. And I can't seem to get them back. And I am sorry that now I am a broken, empty shell of a person who is not good enough for you to consider more than just a phase in your temporary stint in England. 

You don't think I fit into your idea of what a wholesome human character should look like. With all the pieces complementing each other and making sense next to each other. Well I'm sorry I'm not like that and that I don't conform to your belief of what a person with a strong sense of identity is like. This is who I am; this is my identity. I am a mass of inconsistencies and I don't make sense a lot. I wish I could make you see that and believe it and not turn away from me. Not that you thinking I have no identity is a good thing either. 

I don't personalise my stuff? Well I do. It's just not in a way that anyone can see. And even if I did, perhaps no one would take one look and know it's me because maybe nobody knows me that well. 

I am insulted when you think my coloured hair does not fit my personality because you think I try so hard to blend in. I try to blend in in my interactions with people but that in no way reflects on my dressing. And I wish that you would accept that if I were to explain it to you. But no you won't. Because you think you know the world and people inside out. But maybe that's why I don't fit in with most people. I'm not like them perhaps. 

And if hurt me when I told you I missed you but you told me I shouldn't. I've spent so much of my life having my affections considered a burden. I'm sick of having people feeling inconvenienced instead of honoured that I am bestowing my affections upon them. You're afraid that I will become dependant on you. Why? Because you're planning to leave and break my heart? Because you know I'm just a phase in your life when you are so much more to me? A part of me feels that you should be fucking honoured that I am even giving you the time of day. But you're not. And you saying that awoke that fear in me that to you, my affections are also a burden. I suspect that they are. You don't want to be held back in your pursuit of excitement in life. And who am I to even make you want to slow down. I'm not special enough; especially not to you to make you feel that staying would be worth your while. In the end, no matter how much you deny it I am just a phase to you. And I don't mean enough to you. 

When you held me I felt safer and more loved than I've ever felt for most of my life. I've never been hugged like that before and it felt so good. It felt so safe. And I wanted to melt into your arms and never come out of that warm feeling of being embraced with such sincerity. I wanted to stay there forever and keep feeling as loved and as safe as I did. You hold me like you really mean it and no one has ever done that before. 

But knowing how it is with me, you don't actually mean it. Not in the way that hugs like that are supposed to mean. I've never been able to understand how you can hold someone like that; someone you barely know and definitely don't care for enough beyond the satisfaction of current needs. How you can embrace someone with an embrace that says so many things but not actually be saying those things to begin with. Perhaps you are genuinely talented when it comes to hugs and you can hug anyone like that regardless of what they mean to you, even if nothing at all. And that would mean that it could be anyone but me in your arms and it wouldn't make any difference. And that makes your embrace a bit more cold to me. I understand compassion and empathy. But it makes me feel like I mean more to you than I really do. And I am tired of having to keep telling myself not to let myself fall because it's all a sham. I wish for once, I was genuinely as loved. 

You looked at me with such adoration it made my heart melt into a puddle of goo at my feet. But how can you look at me like that when I mean nothing to you? When you don't care enough to take a chance on me. I am tired of being lied to. By my head, by my heart, by everything around me. By my unsatisfied potential. By myself. Why do you keep lying to me? All of you. Why do you keep lying to me and taunting me and teasing me into hoping before letting me crash like a pile of bricks onto the ground. 

It's not that I don't love myself. I do love myself. But I acknowledge that perhaps the world does not see the same value in me that I see in myself. It's not the same thing. 

I could very well fall for you and let my heart be crushed again. That seems to be all it's good for really. I can imagine spending my life with you and being happy. I can imagine a lot of things about me being happy with you but you know, I need to stop lying to myself. I need to stop telling myself fairy tales because at the end of the day, I'm not that special one that you can feel like you want to keep and adore for the rest of your life. How can I be? When all evidence seem to point to the contrary.