DELUSIONS

I thought about you every single day since I met you for the first time. The closed off man who cares about me makes me giddy and heartbroken all at once. Bambi is his name. His voice! His voice is low and smooth. Hearing it always sent waves of curious pleasure up and down my body. God! This man is hot. There’s no way to describe it. His smile brought me in and sealed the deal. But damn. Fate is a sarcastic bitch. I trusted him only to be hurt by him. I told myself I needed to stay away from you in the beginning because how alive I felt when I was with you terrified me, I couldn’t make sense of it. But the more time went on, I realized I just couldn’t. Being with you felt like being on fire and drowning at the same time. Every time we met; we were drunk. And every time you felt like THE ONE. The way you’d hold me by my waist, pull me closer, stare at my lips... every time I’d fall deeper. I didn’t know falling deeper was digging my grave in disguise. I never thought I’d find myself seated at a bar drinking shots of vodka, my arch nemesis, looking at my phone, waiting to hear from you. Desperate. I’m stumped. Stumped between craving you… no. Stumped between loving you and hating you, between what I feel for you and discarding you. 4 months I’ve known you now feel like we’re childhood friends. Seated here I can still remember how your body felt against mine. In and out in sync, breaths intermixing, our souls intertwining. I ghost where your fingers left imprints, the feeling of your hands around my throat and against my better judgment, I smile. I should have realized I was falling deeper and deeper. The vodka numbs my thoughts and memories. I’d like to tell you. I am worth more than whatever you wanted to call it. What I was. A toy that wasn’t battery operated. I wanted you to see that I’m worth more than a bad decision. Because every decision I make about you is bad. Tears and cracks form every time I see you. You make love to my body, whisper sweet nothings to me, kiss me all over and when the high is over, I’m just another body in your list. You pick and choose when I’m enough, decide when you can touch me to make my body feel on fire. But not anymore. I’m worth more than an hour of attention before being shoved aside when you’re done. But what exactly should I tell him? That I was stupid enough to be in love with him and was hurt that he didn’t believe in the concept? That even though this was true, I wanted him physically and was trying to overlook the fact that this relationship was based on lust and nothing more. It cut me deep to even think about all that, so what more if I said it all to him? I couldn’t stand to imagine his face as he let me down easily and explained that he liked me in the physical sense, liked me enough to shag, but that was it. 

“I can’t do this anymore!” I mumbled and immediately burst into a flood of tears. 

Everything was coming out in those tears. My current sexual frustration, my permanent emotional frustration, everything. 

“I love you and I hate it. I hate loving you so much.” 

At this point, I’m drunk. The buzz had settled, and I asked the bartender for a couple more shots. My phone lights up and it’s him. I wiped my tears and picked up the call. No hesitation. 

“Mine in 20?” 

“Yeah sure. Should I bring anything?” 

“Pick up a bottle on the way” 

“Whiskey?” 

“You know me so well. Aight later.” 

“Bye” 

I was five minutes away from his place. Right down the street. I could see his house from where I was seated. I drown the three shots in front of me, ask for a bottle of whiskey, pay and leave. That’s the fault of addicts. They’ll give in to their vices even when they know they’re hurting them, only to get the smallest of fixes whenever they can. I knock on his door, he opens. He may be sober right now, but my drug of choice is staring me straight in my eyes and it's already steeped back into my veins. 

“You look good. Come in.” he says with a smile. 

“Sure.” 

My stupid heart. 

-Lovia Malusi