Itami

By Britny Blaize

“Those sad love songs, they hit us more than the happy ones, don’t they?”, I pondered out loud.

“Yeah”, she replied.

“The happy ones seem hollow”, I went on.

“Probably, pain is worth more”, Annabeth said out loud. The words seemed to echo, trapped in the walls of my head.

I had grown to be extremely fond of pain over the years. I thrived the most when in pain. The first and only time I skinned my knee, I laughed when I saw the blood. A singer was worthy only if there was pain in his voice. To me, people in pain seemed way more attractive. The honesty in their tears told me they were real. That’s how I filtered them from the fake ones. The ones that carried grief, regret, and sorrow somehow seemed worthy. For me, they were already good enough. Maybe because I thought I couldn’t relate to the happy ones. Or maybe because I wanted someone as broken as me.

It took me a long time to realize that both of those were just two parts of the same statement.

I wanted someone as broken as me because I couldn’t relate to the happy ones.

One day, I saw someone with pain. He wanted me. I wanted a part of it; the pain. We got together. I enjoyed the fights more than the peace. The tears satisfied me more than the giggles. I made sure every word of mine pricked. Because I was convinced that for something to be meaningful, it had to have pain associated with it. I ended up leaving him with more sorrow than he could have ever imagined. If every part of your heart was scarred, would you still call it scarred or a makeover? I got out of it numb. And soon, like a hungry cub I started yearning for pain again, just so that I could feel something.

Another somebody caught my eye and feelings grew. We hardly knew each other, so I knew I wouldn’t get much pain out of it. I knew I would run out of it one day. It went on for a while. But soon, I realised that I didn’t want pain as much now. I wanted him more. I was now living off of the longing. The little joys. It didn’t hurt and I could still live, which was new. The only thing that hurt, was the reality that he’d never know any of this. That he’d never know he had changed me. I gave up. I left. Not wanting to return. Not wanting the pain. Circumstances brought us together again. I stuck to my vow. But, he was like a fire in the snow. You’d only want to get closer. I told him. I told him everything I could think of. He listened. Patiently. He agreed. He wanted to know me and I let him.

The origin of the shiver in your voice despite knowing what exactly to say and having the heart to say it is not entirely unknown. It’s inside you. Your demons. Your past. My past had always silenced me, never letting me heal. My voice, it had drowned a long time ago. To be tolerated, I kept my words to myself, lest I lose those around me. I had stopped being myself. I knew no longer who I was. Just a soul in the body of a people pleaser.

I bared my soul. I gave him pieces of me. He took care of them. At times, he let me break because I wanted to. He sat there in silence, waiting to help me put myself together. He confided in me and I saw light. I tasted happiness. It seemed familiar. It sounded like me, only younger. We only grew closer in the days forward and I found my home in him.

I no longer yearned for pain. I only wanted him.

By Britny Blaize