The love I was taught growing up was tough. It was a lot of punishments, harsh, physical ones. Doesn't matter if we challenged our naked bodies against air conditioning on full blast or writing lines, or slaps and pinches from her, we grew up this way, just the way the bruise blossomed on my pale, sallow skin. Don't tidy your table? You will find it clean --- and your belongings in the bin. Came home too late? You're not allowed to sleep with the air conditioning or even, god forbid, a fan. Uttered a vulgar word? You are getting slapped till your ears ring. Talked back to an adult? Face the wall, in isolation, away from your siblings and no dinner for you. That was what my maid, nanny, and enemy taught me since I was 7. So did my guardian's son, when he drinks.
When I entered puberty I was overwhelmed by girls and boys. My hormones were going haywire and I was blinded by them, I learnt love knew no gender, no religion, nor race. I fell in love with girls and boys. Fell in lust. Fell in infatuation. Not love.
I first fell in love with my bestfriend at age 15. My first boyfriend. It ended badly, with him cheating on me. I grew a little older and fell in love (puppy love?) with my second boyfriend. I explored uncharted terrains, but left him when I couldn't take the tolls of a relationship: the unhappiness, the quarrels, the nitpicking, the jealousy, his possessiveness, his inane sensitivity to everything I say...
I grew even older. And I realized love knows no age. The age gaps widened, from my second boyfriend's and my age gap of 4 years to 6 years, 8 years, even 12 years. I found myself largely involved with the party animals, resulting in meaningless relationships that ended when the music stopped or when the sun came up.
Now, nearing the age of 20, a grand ol' age of being two decades old --- man, I have seen a lot. I've loved. I've been loved. I've lusted and been lusted after. I've crushed and been crushed. I lived my life full of passion, with no regrets, running wild, no one able to pin me down. Wild like the summer breeze that blows through your hair, wild like the hyenas, hungry for more of life. Hungry for the zest of life. The hunger comes and go. Sometimes I feel satiated; sometimes bloated; sometimes famished. It's never constant. That's what my life has been, anything, anything, but a state of consistency.
I've shifted 6 addresses in 5 years, annihilated by reality, forced to grow up, to man it up and not cry. I fell again, when I was 19, in the rainy clouds of December. But I will rise again, love to me, still knows no gender, no race, no age, no religion, no nothing. I will love again, I am confident I will. Because I've already made the first big step: moving on. Being cured of my ridiculous heartache was a huge relief.
I hope everyone out there who reads this: don't be disheartened by broken relationships you've had in the past. I am sad and regretted a few of them, but they are just experiences and mistakes that will add the spice to your life. Without them, what is life? If happiness wasn't so elusive, would we all seek it? No!
You will find better love. I will find better love. We will find better love. It doesn't have to be a romantic relationship, even friends and families are already sufficing for me. I'm glad to have them surround me. Surround yourself with them too, because they will truly catch you when you fall ---- your romantic partner may not always. They might even be the ones to let you fall.
Love your friends and families beyond your romantic partner. Because they are truly the ones who will stick by you in the pain of break ups and fights and cheating incidences. And last of all; learn to love yourself. As I am, slowly, still trying to. x
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