falling in leaves

forty eight

"fixed"

I took a long look at myself. I pointed out every single thing I hated about myself— I said those things out loud. I wrote them down. I stared at those inked words until they were engraved in my mind the way letters are carved into jewelry or tombstones. I stared at myself in the mirror long enough for those very same words to tattoo themselves all over my skin. . . and then I brainstormed how to make them disappear— how to wipe these eyesores from my being. How did these cracks in my spirit come to be?

My ability to self-sabotage— it's been ruining what's supposed to be my relationship with Marlo. It's been ruining my happiness— what's supposed to be my happiness. So many times before I felt that there were outside forces breaking apart my romantic relationships. . . But this time around, it was all me.

Did this start because of what took place between Juwan and I? Was I fearful of giving my complete self to Marlo because I feared he'd take advantage of my love? Perhaps.

Perhaps I was still in love with Juwan. Seeing him after all this time felt almost surreal. It felt as though I was walking on clouds, my feet sinking into a puddle of cotton with every step I took towards him on that faithful day. I could still smell his cologne, the addictive scent trapped in my nostrils every time I'd close my eyes. I yearned to hear his voice in my ears. Just to hear my name wrapped up in those vocal chords would suffice.

I found myself staring at the phone for hours at a time. To dial or not to dial. To call Marlo or to call Juwan. Exchanging words with Marlo would only remind me of how ill-prepared I was for any sort of commitment— how scarred up I was. I didn't need that right now. I didn't need Marlo right now. I needed a release. I needed to let loose. I needed somebody to make me feel like I was all that.

I knew I was, but I surely didn't feel like I was. Being with Marlo made me feel like I wasn't.

I finally get the man that I've been asking for, and I can't even handle what I've been given. He was sweet and honest and driven and more than invested. He had his shit together, and that fact only made me realize that I didn't. Him being so put-together only reminded me that I needed to get my shit together as well. . . Actually doing so was intimidating and frustrating, and trying to maintain a relationship that I wasn't all that invested in on top of all that was a lot to handle.

I loved Marlo. He was perfect— almost too good to be true. . . but I was keeping myself from him. I don't know if it's because I'm broken or if it's because I'm too scared to get fixed.

Maybe that's why I've been so infatuated with the thought of Juwan lately. I didn't have to get fixed when I was with him because he was broken too. He didn't even realize how broken he was, but he did the best he could with this so-called 'love' thing. I admired that— I still do.

I wondered if he was doing well.

We didn't get to talk on Christmas, and I hadn't seen him since then. It was February by now, and I desperately wanted to know if there was still a place for me in his heart. I wanted to know if seeing me on Christmas Day made his heart stop the way mine did when I witnessed him. I wanted to know how his son was doing, and if he and Ava were together now. I prayed they weren't.