He knew he’d be a fool if he let her go. But he did it anyway… He also knew that he’ll come to hate himself for that singular act. He does now. Looking back, it was a cross between the silliest and worst decision he ever made and it will haunt him to the grave.

Funny how he sees love and football in the same light sometimes but she was the Paul Scholes to his Manchester United first team – irreplaceable. Three women have come after her and none made the impression she did. To him, she was the one who got away. No, she was the one he pushed away. Every girl he fancied – or the other way around – had a mountain to climb; he had high expectations. He swore he’ll never compare anyone who came after her with her, and he swore at himself for breaking that promise he made to himself.

Fear is a crazy thing and can make you do stupid things; he let her go because he was scared.

Alone with his thoughts, he sat down on the front porch and placed the bottle of Johnny Walker between his legs. He liked looking ahead into the far darkness in times like this. He wasn’t an alcoholic and the drink only served to warm him up when he got home on cold rainy days. Only that the weather was warm that night, but he was cold inside – frozen.

They met in school, as classmates; but they barely said more than a sentence to each other during their first year. He always liked her though he assumed she was a snub – he was wrong. The second year almost went the route of the first one too; before they ended up receiving a lecture sitting beside each other. Then he gave her his spare pen. Days later, he gave her his notes to take home because she missed a class. A friend of his, Charlie, told him there was more to the note borrowing than she was letting on. He brushed it aside. Charles usually saw a move before it happened. He was wrong, Charlie was right.

Soon, they started having deeper conversations. She was so much like him, yet so different. He discovered she read the same mystery novels he read, and listened to the same music too. Discovery is a wonderful thing; once you gain an insight, you want more. She was like a vortex that sucked him in, and he didn’t mind. Curiosity was his curse and he thanked his stars he wasn’t a cat because he’d be dead already, even with nine lives.

As with every relationship, they had their crazy moments. They’ll hate on each other so much that they’ll fall in love all over again. Once, they didn’t talk to each other for two months, even when they crossed paths almost every day. But they always picked up where they left off in the end.

They graduated and things began to unravel. That was when he ruined it all. He had a curse – thinking too much. Love wasn’t a science but he played Einstein all the same. He felt she wouldn’t hold on for him to be who he wanted to be, for her. He didn’t know if he was going to screw up in future and he’ll end up being hated by her. But the thought of screwing up scared him shitless. If it was another girl he wouldn’t be bothered, but this wasn’t any girl; this was her. He did the only logical – and selfish – thing he knew: screw up now, let her go, set her free; she’ll thank you for it later. His mistake was that he didn’t know how much she loved him. She still does. But she hates him in equal measure too.

Sometimes, love’s not a victory march, but a hot or cold barefoot trudge on prickly thorns; with hate as it’s next door neighbour and bullshit in-between.

Image from http://www.forwallpaper.com


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