The Introverted Witch @theintrovertedwitch - Tumblr Blog

There’s always light at the end of the tunnel!

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….but it wasn’t all bad times. There were good times too. A lot of it. Until it all went bad. Worse, even.

The time when we were surrounded by stray dogs. You held my hand so tight that it ached a bit. ‘Trust me, you will be fine’ you said. I did. It was so easy to trust you. ‘Lets get vodka. Didn’t you want to try?’ I got drunk for the first time that night. ‘Let’s go for a bike ride’ with that smirk, playing with my fingers. ‘It’s 2 AM’ I smiled. My eyes longing to sleep and yet I was willing to go anywhere with you. We went for that bike ride and then followed countless number of rides like that. It was so easy to fall in love with you,

like falling asleep, like something I’ve done all my life. That’s probably why it is not so easy to let you go.

Not so easy to un-love you,

Not so easy to discard you as another thing that happened in my life.

Just another boy I was crazily in love with at that point of time.

No. You are that man who came and stayed permanently in my head and thoughts.

You are a constant I don’t want anymore and yet, not a single day goes by without thinking about you.

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The Urban jungle ♥️

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Stop giving me the pretty pieces of you. Stop showing me the perfect parts, the facade, the side that is easier to like, easier to love. Show me your scars. Your wounds. Tell me what broke you. Tell me the stories that made you the person you are today. The journey. The shitstorm. The bad and the ugly. That’s what I am here for. Those are the parts I want to see because, it’s easier to fall in love with beautiful things. I am here for the darkness and pain. I am here to stay. So you don’t have to hide from me.

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She is used to being invisible. It’s not that nobody notices her. But she preferred that they didn’t. She’s only met the wrong kind of men. “You have a type’ a friend once told her. ‘You gravitate towards the worse kind of men!’ Her friend was right. But she wasn’t choosing that type on purpose. She just didn’t have the luck that other women who met one person and drove away into the sunset had. It is quite sad for a hopeless romantic like her. She looked at him now. He placed the book back and walked towards her. His beautiful smile stirring her stomach. “Where are we headed with this?” She wanted to ask. It’s been 6 months since they started seeing each other. The longest time she’s dated a man who’s sure he wants to be with her. But the words get stuck in her throat. “You ask too many questions. I am going to teach you a lesson” the voice she dreaded spoke in her head. She didn’t like those lessons. She stopped asking questions and that protected her heart. So, that became the new norm for her.

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She stopped breathing for a whole minute. She is sure that she did. But no, she didn’t. But yes, she gasps. She hopes he didn’t hear it. He didn’t. She stops jerking her knee. He smiles assuringly. He takes his hand from her thigh and walks toward the huge book shelf. Her treasure. She feels the warmth go with him. She feels cold. ‘No, stay. Stay close to me. Put your hand back on my thigh or around my shoulder or just stay close to me’ She wants to say. But she chews her lip. Here’s the thing about people with anxiety - they always have more than one way to cope with it. She loses her train of thoughts so now she has nothing to tell him. Rather afraid of asking him to come back to the couch. So she just sits there staring at him. Taking him in. He is flipping through a book which happens to be one of her favorites. She cannot believe he picked it. She cannot believe that this man is at her home because she’s not really used to meeting someone who is interested in her.

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He asks about her too. Don’t think that he doesn’t. Don’t mistake him for being so full of himself. He asks about her childhood, her failed relationship, he treads carefully around her darkest secrets and the past. He knows what’s too much to ask. He knows where to stop. Oh no, he is not perfect. He is a mess. Just like her. But we all learn to live above the mess. Make it seem so easy. A thousand things run in her head. But when he is around her, her heart beats too loud to hear any of her thoughts. So that’s a good thing, or, so she thinks. Her anxiety gets the better of her all the time. She laughs too much or her thoughts freeze. She starts talking but ends her thought quicker because she thinks she’s been talking too much. Now she jerks her knee as she tells him about a book she loves. Words stuck in her throat. He casually leans back on the couch and places a hand on her knee like saying, ‘It’s just me. You have nothing to worry about’

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She liked standing next to him. Being next to him. Sitting close to him, watching him talk. Just anything. Just everything. The way he smiles, the way he frowns, the lines between his eyebrows, his nerdy glasses and ruffled hair. Ruffled hair because they made out just a few mins back and now they are sitting next to each other talking about politics, about movies, about music. She liked everything about him. His passion for the things he believes in. His openness to sit and talk about where their relationship stands. About who she is to him. In the middle of a sentence he takes a deep breath and looks at her. She smiles at him. He looks at her hand and picks it up, intertwines their fingers all without breaking eye contact. She feels her cheeks grow warm. He kisses the back of her hand and smiles, ‘What are you thinking?’ He asks. ‘About you’ she says.

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I want to create art, learn how to play the ukelele, spell and pronounce the hardest words in English, bike to the park early in the morning, sleep on time, fall in love, workout, create crazy memories, travel like a nomad, build a place I can call my home, clutter it with all the things I love, read all the books in the world, write, draw, paint and write some more, write for myself, get tattoos, live in Montauk just until I get bored of that place, or maybe forever live there. Atlantic caressing my hair. But I am so crippled by grief, loss and depression. I wish I had the willpower to get out of bed every morning.

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