Past Me (Creative writing)

Being in love is a strange thing. It's like the universe guides you to your person and then leaves you there in bliss. Without stopping to process the feelings before they become all consuming.

There is no time for grief of what could have been. Only smiles, giggles, and sleepless nights. When someone's eyes begin to look like your future, the past becomes void.

I tend to get stuck on the past. Not by choice, but my heart clings to the threads of memories. It's was nice back then too, am I wrong for even thinking about that? That's what happens when I truly love someone.

My love stains my mind for all time. A decade gone by and yet I still remember. A year gone by and it's like I'm still there. Stuck forever in photographs, songs, and small moments. I see a ladybug on a fence and remember.

Now I see a future where I'm happy. Long nights in the kitchen, the smell of fresh baked cookies fills the room. Quick trips to the shops, turned into mini adventures. Days in the sun, the grass underneath us. It's sweet, and gentle, this life.

Parts of my heart will always rest with the past. Tangled in the threads of tiny moments. Tight, restricting, pressure. But you try to unravel me.

The thing is, you can't feel that free, beautiful love, without grieving the you that wanted that all this time. The struggle to be seen. The desire to be desired. To be worth fighting for, not with. What about that me? She will remain wrapped in grief. And I am not allowed to talk about her.

Does she not deserve love, still? After all this time? No? Because she is there. And I am here. She will stay trapped behind glass, frozen in film, and forgotten by most.

But not by me.

She loved so deeply, it didn't matter if they loved her too. She hadn't known what it's like to be loved in return. And didn't see it possible. Yet she loved anyway. And that was enough for her.

I'll keep her safe and alive in my mind, for all time. Because that's how I love. Permanently, unconditionally, eternally. She is loved. By me.

-Jen xx