I cried over it once, and only once. Because tears are the ultimate proof of defeat. And if I didn't have my dignity, I would have nothing left.
I believe that what you don't know, does not happen. Everything that's going wrong in the world, as long as you don't know about them, they don't exist. Ignorance is an unbelievable bliss. And so, I insist on not knowing.
I insist on not knowing whether or not theirs was a happy ending after all.
Heartbreak wasn't what I thought it would be. There were no theatrics, no violent displays of melodrama. No shattering, no tearing, no being ripped to pieces and then stepped on.
It was much more alive, the pain. A demented, cancerous being that dug its way into your core. Planted itself into your insides. Took root, sprouted, then grew and grew and grew. Until all you can feel is the deep pulsing of its veins as they wrap and engulf everything that once made you smile.
Until every day you're telling yourself of how long ago it happened, how miraculously time heals, and how quickly you've moved on. Until you keep replaying every detail and every emotion and every apology to remind yourself of how it had all helped you to become 'a much stronger person'. Until you've gone through boyfriend after boyfriend and the reason they all give for leaving you is that you are emotionally unavailable.
Until your Tylenol intake dangerously exceeds that of the recommended daily dose.
Until you're growing your hair out, powdering your cheeks, and brushing your lashes with increasingly darker mascara until you begin to look more and more like the one you hate. Just so you could stare into the mirror, picture her face, and do whatever you can to convince yourself that you are just as beautiful.
Until you find yourself climbing the tallest building you can find, standing on the ledge, and yearning for the courage to just let everything go and fall.
Because the truth is, you never got over it. You won't forgive, and you can't forget. And you're so ashamed you can barely live with it. Because you always thought you were above that. You always thought you were kind enough and sweet enough and pure enough because grudges are for bitter people. People like him. People like her.
And after letting the wind slap you in the face a couple of times, you climb across the railing, and walk the two thousand flights of stairs back down to the ground.
And then you cry. You cry until all the mascara has dripped off your eyes and oozed in dark trails down your cheeks. Because you finally realized it. You finally realized that it didn't matter. Whether you tried to be different to prove your diversity, or tried to be similar to prove your equality.
She was first.
You were second.
And the rest didn't matter.
It didn't matter if you were a much better match for him than she. Didn't matter if you calmed his storms in a way she never could. Didn't matter if you laughed together in a way they never did. Didn't matter if you understood him perfectly, while she never tried to. Didn't matter if you had a connection that went beyond words and emotions and sex and everything that defines a relationship. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
Because in the end, love always prevails. Love conquers all. Love is blind. Love is eternal. And really, the only kind of love that is capable of all that, is first love.
And those who came second…
Will always stay second.
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For those out there, including myself, who have ever had to face that obliterating realization: I am never going to be as good as her.
I do adore Kikyo. All that yummy bitterness and hate. She represents everything I wish to overcome, someday.