Saudade. Chapter 3

I had fucked my first boyfriend. The sex tinted glasses were gone, some panic and anxiety said hello but my whole body melted like butter. I-

I lied to you when you called and asked. I couldn’t tell you that we had fucked. Letters are always the easiest when you’re ashamed and know that no matter what a bad reaction is expected.

That was the guilt which filled me, but there was also some long lost love. I knew that I had clipped off your wings and given them to another.

And I had lied, because I just couldn’t tell you all of this over the phone. How do I tell you this, when he was laying besides me and I could only think of him, feeling that I would never get bored, that somehow a different routine would happen and that I would have some happy ending I had wished so badly when I was young? I feel so tired, but somehow this whole mess made me live. It made me live, which I haven’t in a while. At the same time I wanted to sleep, I was tired and drained, tracing my fingers against his skin. I kissed his forehead.

I want to feel safe and I haven’t been feeling that at all, just feeling myself go through life holding onto hour to hour. I felt like there was nothing else and I’ve had plenty mornings where I didn’t knew if I loved you because I couldn’t feel at all. I know I’m chasing after a long gone fallen star. I lower my head and kiss him again.

This time it’s far more slow, different from how you kiss. We keep holding against each other’s lips, some traces of how it was in the beginning so many years ago. My mind starts telling me exactly what I had done now. I had unwind with an old lover, who I had never touched this way. We both hadn’t touched each other in such a way. And laying here feels like a different closure, which you surely can’t achieve from just kissing.

I can’t help but wonder what the fuck have I entangled myself into. It’s never just sex, no matter what one wants to believe. It’s some reconciliation. We keep kissing and it fires up a bit, but we both pull back, far too drained to see where it could lead. My mind is scattered and peppered with guilt. We both don’t look into the other’s eyes, probably both recalling all the fights and all the weirdness that one has said once when they were so young. I position myself back so that I can kiss his forehead and we both listen to the other’s breathing.

I trace his skin in circles now, trying to recall how it had even felt before, but it was too long to remember. All I can remember now is all the falls and highs.

“Why did you leave me exactly?” I ask him out loud, a question which I thought I would never have an answer to, only things I could answer would be with a stupid guess. My heart rate gets faster. David finally decides to lean himself up and looks at me, but I’m not sure I want to see him no matter what the answer is.

“Do you really want to know?” And I get scared from looking at him. I feel myself so young and lost, because I had gotten the answer on the last time we had talked, a few years after dating, because I had decided that we ought to remain friends because now looking back, I was too queer to make friends and that’s why apparently we stuck together for so many years. But the answer was never enough.

“I… I was screwed in the head. I lost you too early, too much ahead of time.” He confesses and I don’t even know what to do with him. “I lost you so early. I thought you would wait, I thought you would come back.”

“I did.” I say. “I can’t say I waited, but I’m here. Now. By coincidence, which is true, but I’m here.”

He breathes out loudly, anxious, fidgeting with my hair now. It’s much shorter than what it used to be, but I could never cut it fully, I still enjoyed some length and I just fancied it because some men who I looked up to had it, so it was nothing that had a bad connotation with me.

I somehow couldn’t lie or tell the truth, but I was holding back things to say regardless, I guess I have that with everyone, you included. I can never get myself to confess the full thing sometimes, unless I think it through sometimes and even then I leave some details which I can’t really say. By the end of the day I feel like I can’t trust anyone at all. Maybe it started with David, who had cheated on me. I don’t really know. And we were too young to even properly consider or know an open relationship. Did he change now? People state that cheaters remain cheaters their entire lives. That you can’t just make another cloth out of the one you have.

Would that be the same for David? And now that we had thrown our sexual frustration out of the way, what does one do after such a thing? I had asked myself what would I have ever done if I had seen David. I always had it filled with anger, because he had changed me, just like any other partner or maybe school sweetheart had. I had everything from shoving him to showing you off, that I had managed to find true love elsewhere and that he was nothing and yet here I was, in his arms and running away from yours.

Maybe it’s not even up to David, maybe it’s just up to us. Maybe we’re the ones at fault, maybe it’s all my fault and David did nothing. I feel like it’s some ancient love triangle, where I don’t know where I lay. And how come I unearthed this long lost love, which I had thought I had gotten over so many years ago? I had spoken to you about David, a lot and you were there when I had discarded him, we were friends then and I saw a new beginning in you. I knew I was in love and that I could change. I never fell out of love with you, either. I just screwed up along the way. I somehow broke and decided to go alone to Brazil, which will haunt me until I die. I don’t know why I wanted to connect to a place I had been to so rarely before, maybe I had felt something, but it would be a lie. I slept all the way on the plane, nearly missing the food. I felt nothing other than the bare bones of guilt. That’s why I kept avoiding being awake. I didn’t want to think of the fight.

I’m probably the worst letter writer because my stories won’t match up, but this is all the truth I can afford. You always knew me and who you loved. You knew that I would always be scared and somehow my life had shaped me desperately in the way I am. But please consider to think, patch the missing pieces together and you’ll know everything. You’ll see that I never lied, I was just struggling to tell the truth what was going on in my head, because I always do. If one does sign a love contract, you knew the terms and conditions that I would always be like this and you somehow accepted me and I just went after David, regardless of what everything was said. But then we never discussed a scenario where I would see him and just go for him. We never knew that I had always loved him. Is it because love never really fades?

I would claw it all out if I could, if you had told me earlier but now-

I don’t even know.

I don’t even know myself apparently since I’m no longer knowing which feelings I have and what to do with them. And in all this thinking I kiss David again and he kisses me back, neither of us fully aware of what to say and somehow we still keep letting our bodies talk, entangled.

I want to tell him that I still love him, but that would send him running. I tend to judge men by the previous men I’ve encountered, by those which wanted nothing serious from a hook up and this happened to be a hook up. But what did David want? I can assure you that I hold the same fear I had held with you so often. I haven’t changed, I just got uglier as I became bare. Maybe there was just a layer which you hadn’t seen. I don’t know, or maybe I had loved him all these years and everything was leading up to this rather than some happy ending with you. I remember you told me the story of the man who left his wife for a high school sweetheart who he had met accidentally again or just different school sweethearts which would reunite, who realized that actually they would never find anything better.

Was that the same with me? Was I throwing the wrong thing away?

David wouldn’t tell me that he loved me first, after all this time and maybe it was best that we would keep our mouth shut, because desire had shown us all the colours we were missing and had held locked deep away in our heart.

“Why did you never try to get back with me?” I asked him, breaking the silence and the kiss.

“I thought the timing was off and you would never accept.” He pauses. “Didn’t I offer to get back together?”

“Yeah, when I started dating someone else. Talk about jealousy.” I chip in, remembering how weird I felt, because that was the first time we decided to stop talking to each other altogether, because I had found someone else after our break up and after he had dumped the girl he had cheated on me with. I didn’t even know the full story, I just heard a bit from him and how he had never loved her later. He had broken up with her on Valentine’s day as well, which remained a joke I would tell people, maybe all these years I struggled with losing David. I don’t even know. I barely remembered everything now and yet here I was, struggling with how things were going with you and running to him.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else, that’s when the fear would kick in.” He confesses. “I just thought that love was a game rather than long, vivid reflections of emotions because one is scared to admit what is really in their heart.”

“And what is it in your heart?” I ask, my lip trembles once. I even look away, not ready to hear anything at all, so I look away, missing his eyes instantly and he kisses my forehead.

“My feelings never went away. I never loved anyone else.” He says softly, nearly a velvet whisper.

“Do you still love me, after all this time?” I ask, as he kisses my face all over. What a sudden shift from sex to love confessions. It always amazed me how those two contrasted and I never understood how could sex be tender, when I always wanted to get pounded or be just as harsh with my partner at the time.

“I could never love anyone else. You had stolen my heart.” My blood goes cold for a moment before I master the courage to kiss him again, feeling the fire run in my blood. Could I say the same? I had loved you. I had loved him apparently.

I still feel lost and terribly unsure of what to say and I feel like I am in an interrogation room where he is smoking a cigarette, blowing smoke rings and watching the air dissolve them softly, as you are behind the one-way mirror. You would watch all of this unfold and I would never get to see your reaction as you heard it all. I won’t be in the same room as you read it. I don’t even need to be besides you. My comfort will only bring you a heavier blow, because of how will I act. Would you even be able to look at me in the eye? I had lied to you all this time. I had loved another man, for once it was the second which I loved more. I didn’t even know my feelings ran so deep and I didn’t want to confess them either.
When it came to you, I always knew the whole time that I would hurt you. I could never understand how come you clung so tightly to such a fuck up. I didn’t know what to expect from this though, because you had loved someone else, you never loved a cheater, you never loved this me which I thought was long gone.

I fuck up.

I have this long desire to destroy myself, because I deserve nothing, nothing at all. If everything would go my way, you would be gone because I don’t deserve you and if I could even properly function I would have been gone so long ago. The problem is when one can’t find the right blade they result in self destruction, torture until one collapses dead.

I don’t know why suicide is so hard. I don’t know how I happen to be so disgusting that I don’t free the world from myself, when the stress becomes so high. It happens at all times, nowhere to escape and you want it all. Watching you never made sense, how you always go forward and you drag me with my face in the ground because that is how I enjoy it.

I knew it, though, I knew laying at bed at night that somehow I had captured his heart and the other girls meant nothing and guys apparently as well. But I had only known the girls part.

He’s waiting for me to reply and I just stare at those lust filled eyes. He loves me. You love me.

“I would tell myself for so long that I had never loved you.” I pause. “For so long. And look where I ended up. I lied myself just to wake up from life in your arms again.”
I’m not lying.

How long have I loved him for then? I don’t even know when I had even started properly thinking about love, it was so long ago that I can barely remember anything before we started dating. I just remember it being so long ago, a bunch of bitter memories and old discarded thoughts were he was tangled into.

I didn’t even want to think of you. My mind was going places, driving on two busy roads where nobody else could cross. I couldn’t function, but life goes on to kick one in the groin. I don’t know why you feel distant recently, I didn’t understand where did the split ends appear. I always thought it was all artificial until looking now at all the cracks we are waltzing by and you’re holding onto tightly. I think it’s because you think you’ll never love anyone again, because I was your first proper love. You told me you never loved anyone before, that you would try other men and that they weren’t your cup of tea and they all turned into anecdotes, I could never even retell it as well as you would, with your voice impersonations which I would watch as of they were a show of themselves and you would speak of them.

Having low self-esteem and being on the verge of a breakdown was really food for the whole story. It was all writing what if I would fuck up this badly, knowing at the same time I would never would, I don’t have the feelings left. So it was really just fuelling that all up.

I’m also polyamorous, so this was putting my mind is a mindset where I would feel trapped by my relationship and not act accordingly, when clearly Allan has feelings for two. Cheating is a theme I enjoyed exploring because I frankly enjoy love drama and a good story about it and I’ve written about it numerously, but I’ve always only been on one side, because I’m open to my partners. Your friends would know, so why wouldn’t your lover?

I gathered inspiration from a recent relationship I had where it was just supposed to be sex and it escalated, so I took all the thoughts from there. I struggle with speaking out and it’s a quality I amplified, making Allan a terribly unreliable narrator.

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