Beinteha

10. A Fractured Past

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1 0 : a  f r a c t u r e d  p a s t

i can buy myself flowers, write my name in the sand
talk to myself for hours, say things you don't understand

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IT HAD BECOME clear to me very early on in life, relationships were nothing but a mirage, a facade hiding a world of agony and self-destruction. And I had learnt to see through this beautiful illusion of relationships. The facade of relationships was like a mirage in the desert - shimmering and alluring from a distance, but upon closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a cruel trick of the mind. The idea of finding someone to share a life with seemed enchanting, with visions of candlelit dinners, long walks on the beach, and happily ever afters. But the truth was far from it.

The reality was harsh and unrelenting. It was a constant battle of compromise and sacrifice, where one had to give up a part of themselves to make the other happy. It was a never-ending cycle of compromise that slowly chipped away at one's sense of self until they were left with nothing. The fights, the disagreements, the small misunderstandings, and the larger ones that led to days of silent treatment - they all made relationships seem like a daunting task.

But the worst part of it all was the pain. The pain of loving someone with all your heart and watching them walk away. The pain of trying to hold on to something that was slipping through your fingers. The pain of feeling lonely even when you were with someone. The pain of pretending that everything was okay when it was not.

The facade was indeed enticing and beautiful, but it was a trap. A trap that ensnared one's heart and soul, leaving them to wonder if it was worth it. And for some, like myself, the answer was a resounding no.

A society thriving on social matches and unhappy marriages had only served to deepen my disillusionment with the institution of love. There was no room for a man in my life. It was not worth the heartache or the trouble. Over the past few years, I had drifted so far away from the idea of having someone in my life that even the irresistible pull of a certain man could not bring me back.

There was no chance. It was not happening.

Ever since Zaroon and I had broken up, I had always maintained an emotional distance from romantic entanglements, never allowing anyone to breach the walls I had erected around my heart. Sure I had friends, plenty of them. But no one had even dared to step a toe outside of the line I had drawn around myself. I discovered that by keeping myself emotionally detached, I'd been able to shield myself from the hurt and sorrow that I'd seen other people go through in their own relationships. It gave me a sort of power and independence I no longer wish to relinquish.

I had always been one for the wild side of life; drawn to the excitement of city life, the vibrant energy of people moving and living in close quarters. Whether it was losing myself in the pulsing beat of a crowded club in Monaco, indulging in the thrill of flirting with strangers in a dimly lit bar in Corsica, or dancing the night away under the neon lights of New York, I was never one to shy away from a good time. The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the unknown, it all made me feel alive. I was addicted.

But for the first time in a very very long time, l truly felt alive.

There was nothing wild about last night. The night was a tranquil canvas, with no thudding music to rouse the heartbeats, no mingling of inebriated souls drenched in sweat and no foul odour of intoxication to shatter the sanity of the mind. Instead, the sky was a peaceful shade of velvet adorned with glittering stars that seemed to whisper secrets to each other. Yet, amidst this serene atmosphere, an inexplicable sensation of exhilaration surged through me, quickening my pulse and setting my heart alight