Masquerading as Prince Charming
But he was charming wasn’t he? The way he made your heart melt when you thought about his smile. Those late nights you spent on the phone talking each others ears off. Talking about everything and nothing. WhatsApping every waking moment. Getting closer, falling deeper, your laughter becoming less and less inhibited. You laughed so hard and so loud you sometimes wonder if this is what dealt your unlucky deck
But he was charming in the way he wound you up. Unwrapping you in layers, peeling off your defenses so softly you don’t feel them come off. His kisses so soft and tender they stole secrets from your lips. Those walls you built so high up to protect your heart. Vanished. Connecting to your heart so deeply there are no barriers between yours and his, no filter to stop yours from swelling and overflowing with love. Exposing parts of you that you did not imagine existed, leaving you bare so that anyone could see you but they didn’t. Vulnerable. Weak. Strong.
But he was charming when he held you. His arms so tight around you like you were his whole world. So muscular they completely covered you. He lied to you not only with his mouth when he made promises which he would not live up to but also with his body when he promised to protect you. Nothing else mattered when you were in his arms, you trusted him wholly when he said it was safe to let go of your hurt; when he made your rules feel like they did not matter when it comes to the heart. The heart that he used to hold together with your hand when you let him take the lead.
But he was charming and it made perfect sense. The two of you peas in a pod. You pinched yourself because it could only have been a dream. Every conversation punctuated with a smile emoji, no wait a blowing kisses emoji! Where you dominated he was submissive where his ego was superior you let him take charge. A match that was not without its insecurities, good times, great memories, food and laughter. Longing looks, long walks and a little banter. The story of two people who shared in heart.
But wasn’t he oh so charming in the way he let go. Without a fight, raised voices or a single harsh word. The way he shut you out was a class act! Making you feel in the last two weeks/days/months like you were being punished. No effort made despite your constant nagging. Trying hard to mend what doesn’t seem to have affected him at all. Does he not see how much you are hurting? Does he not think you get tired of asking him to change? The way he let go is the same way he puts away his toys. Only that he doesn’t because after he’s done playing with them, breaking them leaving out the pieces for someone else to pick up. But you are not a toy and neither is your heart.
Because he is so charming he does not know that there is no more heart left to break. That you have chosen to walk away from it all. That you still love him but you also love yourself. That there are no more pieces of your heart to break. He finished the last sizeable one for anyone else.
You have read from this script before. You know what role says your character is supposed to play next. The recipe has not changed, the ingredients are exactly the same. Eat. Cry yourself to sleep. Music…love songs. Cry shamelessly in public. Buy yourself a new pair of shoes preferably heels. It’s harder for them to see you cry if you tower over them. The ice is thin but its settling, this time you know its permanent. You cannot allow yourself to feel so stupid ever again. So stupid. Ice Queen.
You turn on to a fresh page, cover the one full of ink stains…the world cannot deal with such an unsightly mess. Nobody likes to read a story on a page blurred by tears. Everything is fresh and clean, perfect in everyone’s eyes. You beat your face and take a selfie, for good measure. After all the best way to silently announce to the whole world that you are a new being is with a selfie. It is weak to feel pain and show it.
So Tonny Ndung’u (no this is not him) you have been pestering me for a while now for my #MisimuZanguStory here goes:
“It’s been 15 days 5 hours 25 minutes and 45 seconds since I spoke to him last. Each time I love…it hurts.”