maybe i’m not the girl i thought i was. everyone i love along my way tells me so.
today was one of those days. i blurted out i’m in love with you and, cue the lights, i think i meant it.
it took me by surprise. i never said those words before. to me, they were more foreign than our first kiss, for yes, i loved, but loving is easy. apart from the times when it’s hard.
in love is more than love. it’s a choice.
and it might have been the postcoital slur or a byproduct of nights where sleep is a distant dream undreamt, but i don’t think it was.
so tell me, why is it so difficult to believe that i have found peace at last?
maybe because i’m not so sure i have. when i called my best friend today and told her of the incident, all i heard on the other end of the line were shocked squeals and laughing congratulations.
she told me she was happy for me. she also said she didn’t expect it in a million years.
and i realised i’ve lived two lives all along. one – where i dream of convention and the other, the free, liberated me, – the one with which i face the world.
but words are words. did i mean it and then, what does it mean? are we forever is this the end or the beginning or the pause?
i’m tired of being scared. drag me into the deep end. see if i float.