Behind the Mask

“I want a boyfriend!”

We both laughed, and I knew exactly what she meant. It surprised me, somewhat, because she had always been so independent. I remember both of us, single and having the time of our lives back in Melbourne, when she was still here, as was Miss A.

Young, free and fearless.

“I admire how strong you’re being about the situation.”

Am I strong? Am I really?

“I guess our time together didn’t mean that much to you. You look like you’re not affected at all, that you’ve moved on and forgotten about it.”

Do you think it was easy for me?

It was never easy, never easy to make that break. Just because I choose not to show the world my pain doesn’t mean that I’m not affected. I had my week of mourning, and then I had to pick up the pieces of my life and move on.

Two and a half years was a long time, and I cherish every moment, the good and bad. I cannot turn back time, but even if I could, I wouldn’t, despite the pain I went through, and despite the pain I put you through.

Do you really think it’s easy?

There are times when I walk down the street, and the memory of us, walking hand in hand comes back to haunt me, like scenes from misty watercoloured movies, oh so heart-wrenchingly clichéd, and yet, so true to life sometimes.

No one knows the late nights when I curl up alone in bed and the aloneness hits me, and all I want to do is find someone and ask for a hug, all I want is some physical comfort.

I don’t need to show the world my insecurity, my fear of leaving the relationship, the thought that things may never be the same again – and not for the better. I don’t need to entertain thoughts that I may never find love again, that I am oh so afraid of continuing on with my life. Without you.

You can only fathom part of my guilt everytime I see you, you can only see what I cannot control, and what you see is only a small part of my agony at putting you pain that you did not deserve.

I don’t need to show people that I suffer everytime I think of the situation. There is only so much sadness my body can take, only so many tears I can cry. I have grieved, and part of me will be sad for a long time to come, but I cannot keep myself in isolation, in sadness, in agony.

So no.

It’s not easy.

I am afraid. Very much so.

And I’m not strong.

But I can only try.