Like the legend of the pheonix / All ends with beginnings

Hamad was somewhat typical in his behaviours. Not so surprisingly, he had trouble expressing himself eloquently, and as per usual he preferred humour and over the dinner table conversations. But if she had heard him right, what he said this time was well put and completely genuine. It couldn’t have been any more pertinent to the situation. Hamad was infatuated by her, most people didn’t know it, but there was something about her that allured him in. It was clear in an unspoken, uncertain, kind of way.

She needed to sit and think about what she was getting herself into. This time it was different, Hamad was different. He had said more than she thought he would even ever imply. But she knew she couldn’t take on her typical ‘love and let love attitude’.

I beleive that being in the closeness of someone’s affections is so heartwarming, it’s like a high, you feel: drunk and careless. You lose your inhibitions and return the affections, not meaning to, but not being able not to. It was sad really, I had so much in me that I felt for him, what I returned was real meaningful love, but it wasn’t the same kind. We weren’t a match. The way he saw us as one, oblivious and naïve as to our differences, to our upbringings, to our morals. And how could I see it any other way, when I was looking for something else, when I was looking for roses, Cartier and lingerie.

“People rise out of the flames and get stronger…”

“You wanna throw him in the fucking fire cuz he’s gonna become stronger afterwards?”

“Hear me out. Love is ecstasy and agony. If you can help someone experience those flutters of feelings even if for a brief period, and even if it leads to heartbreak, aren’t you giving them the situation to experience something so amazing, so unbelievable and not what everyone is fortunate enough to know…”

“I’m sorry, what? Are you pretending this is a movie? Are you justifying it for your conscience?”

“I don’t know, maybe I am, but I do believe it. I wouldn’t want any of my experiences to be any different. How would I know the calm, eagerness and joy of loving someone if I hadn’t felt it myself? That feeling of heart racing anticipation when you’re waiting to see them, or finding the strength or ability to do things especially because they are there, or because you want to do it for them. That is magic, and not everyone gets to find it.”

“No. You are not God. It’s not up to you to decide who experiences what.”

“But I see it in his eyes, the intensity of his emotions. Will he have this again? He can, of course he can. He just needs some anger, and bitterness to give him the confidence he lacks in love. He’ll be safer, less open then. He’ll find that person for him, and he’ll know how to keep her this time.”

“What a load of bull! Are you hearing yourself?? I’m off, I’ve heard enough. Once you decide to put others before your selfish self, call me and we’ll talk.”

Whatever I’ve done in the past and to whomever, this truly and unbearably is below me. The gravity of the situation hits me and literally blocks my breath for the ruin that was unavoidable.

Miss Mess



About iheartmess

A Middle Eastern Londoner 20-something living the 'western' life in between London and home.
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