Trauma of the bad type of love.

“What is it like to be in love?”

You would know. Wouldn’t you?

I took a deep breath and paused for a minute.

I’m not sure about love.

But I have surely known what it’s like to be insanely in love with someone who doesn’t love you.

I’m not sure about love.

But I have surely known what it’s like to be consistently cheated on in a relationship.

I’m not sure about love.

But I have surely known what it’s like to be constantly craving for love in a commitment.

I’m not sure about love.

But I have surely known what the grief of loss and heart break feels like.

I’m not sure about love.

But I have surely known what all love is not about.

After all, the one who truly loves you does not have the heart to break your heart and laughs loudly at your downfall. After all, someone who loves you does not go around collecting pieces of your heart and showcases it to the world as if it’s his biggest achievement. After all, someone who loves you does not leave you with a trauma — a fear to love and trust someone else again post break up.

But he didn’t mean to hurt you — isn’t that what he told you with such naïvety in his tone while he left you on the floor, begging him to not hurt you like this?

You bet?

Consistently breaking your heart, consistently cheating on your love, consistently violating your trust and then lifting you up with such force only to throw you down — it almost felt like a murder. Didn’t it? You bled. You couldn’t budge from your bed as clinical depression captivated your body. You went into coma. And people gathered around your bed to pray for your release from the claws of the angel of death. How can someone not know the consequences of this beforehand?

But he still didn’t mean it.

He told you he was confused,

and he doesn’t know what he wants — you or her.

It’s just his innocence.

It’s just his immaturity.

It’s just his naïvety.

He didn’t mean it, he told you.

How about you forgive?

How about you let it go?

How about you move on?

Wasn’t that the exact solution that he offered you in his moments of confusion?

"Go, see someone else. You will feel better."

He gave you the green signal.

Then why are you still here?

Stuck on the memories, struggling with the chord around your heart, trying to give yourself a CPR.

Don’t think about me at all — he instructed you while pouncing on your chest.

Such naïvety in his words. Can you see it like I do?

But how do you walk ahead and jump onto the next person you get when your heart is not even there at all? But how do you let it go when you did not get an ounce of respect from him to even give you a proper explanation that you so rightly deserved? But how do you move on when you’re so punctured inside that he made every single person surrounded around you look suspicious?

"You’re too much."

"No one likes you."

"You’re difficult."

"Everyone thinks so."

He told you the reason and ran to the next house where his new woman was waiting in the kitchen with your very apron on.

He gave you the reason.

He apologised.

He still promised to be there for you no matter what.

Then how can he be wrong, right?

He did everything right, right?

It’s just his naïvety,

It’s just his innocence,

It’s just his immaturity.

An innocent sin, an unmeditated murder that he told you he did not mean to.

Of course, he did not mean it.