My unbeat'd thoughts
Being an adult sucks. This is a universally known fact. Being an adult is not the be all end all we think it is when we're kids. The late nights we dream of as children wear us down once we're grown. The freedom we crave in our youth frightens us in our adulthood.
Everything is harder as an adult. Making friends and then maintaining those friendships. Petty troubles become real problems. Our ignorance dies and we are left waiting for knowledge to magically bloom in our brains. I'm going to let you in on a little secret... it never happens. The truth is no one, and I mean no one, knows what the fuck they are doing.
But the biggest, most soul sucking, dream destroying part of adulthood is realising that love just isn't enough sometimes.
That's right boys and girls, just because you love them and they love you it doesn't mean you'll get that Disney brand of happy ever after you've been promised. All those times you played house as a kid preparing you for that magical relationship was probably just bullshit and a waste of time. (You should have focused on studying then at least you might get some of that knowledge you were expecting).
And I'm not talking about the relationships that breakdown because one person is an asshole or the other hides the fact they occasionally snort the odd line coke (and by occasionally I mean daily. True story). No. We all know that happens. I'm talking about that heart wrenching moment that no matter how perfect you are together or how happy you make each other, and that despite everything you're willing to sacrifice and compromise sometimes it just doesn't work out.
And then what are you supposed to do?
Do you know how hard it is to try and get over someone you don't want to? How much it fucking sucks to try and move on from someone who makes you feel things you've never felt before?
On paper we should work. He looks at me like I'm perfect and I love on him like he's my air. He touches me softly and I hold him tight. He showed me that I could fall in love again and I think I showed him that too.
And right as the happy ending should appear our story is cut short. Our relationship in tatters floating in the wind while we try and figure out what the fuck happened. There was no harsh words. No betrayal. Just confusion and longing. It's almost like, because it was amicable and there was no big explosion, there's also no closure.
Without an ending there's a dangerous void filled with love, hope, wanting and then the hurt all over again. This repeats on a painful cycle. Each stage more cutting than the last until we're left back at the same conclusion we always come to. We aren't going to work. I'm dizzy and nauseated by it.
And it hurts. I fucking hurt. I ache and I want and I hurt. I miss him. His touch and his kiss. The gentle way he loved me and the fierce way he built me back up. The soft comfort of lying in his arms while we shared our thoughts. Our hands and bodies showing what we we're too cowardly to admit out loud. And that no matter how sucky our day had been none of that mattered once we we're in his bed again. The door locked and the covers pulled over us. We disappeared into our own world and it was life altering.
But love isn't enough to keep us together.
And that's just really fucking sad.