Losing my shit and finding another Ice cream machine, Coz that’s all you can do.

Yeah Okay.

So Ima lil psycho, but you know what? It could have been worse.

I could have pulled a Dina Rodriguez and kidnapped his baby and killed it. I could have kidnapped him and refused to let him go, until he realised that this arrangement that we have, isn’t working out too well.

All I did was put all my feelings down on an electronic piece of paper. Maybe I was a little over zealous in this letter and maybe I said something’s that I shouldn’t have- I really don’t hate Germans.

Just before I hit the send button, I thought to myself “Matte, you know you’re going to regret this tomorrow” and sure enough, I did. I went to my friend’s house and burst into tears, telling him what a psycho I was. He asked me what I said, and after spluttering and crying through the explanation he looked at me and said “Yeah, you’re a psycho”. Then I sat in his room, staring out the window, trying to figure it all out.

It’s been 3 days and I haven’t quite figured it out. I haven’t been able to make sense of anything for a while now, taking everything one day at a time doesn’t always make it easier, but. This is not a blog about my heartbreak so I’ll spare you the sob story.

People always speak about having to fight for what you want; they make it sound like this glorious battle, where there is no death. If you were watching movie, this scene would be of a man getting beaten to a pulp and when he wakes up in hospital all broken and bruised, he’ll look at his  significant other and say “Its just a couple of scratches, I’m alright. We did it”.

I suppose physical fights are that easy, you get beat, you heal and you go looking for other fights.

Fighting for someone, a living breathing human being with their own plans and feelings isn’t that easy.

Fighting for someone is like, jumping off a cliff. It doesn’t matter how much faith you have in yourself or the person you are fighting for. When you get to the bottom and that person isn’t there to catch you- There are more than a couple of scratches, its not alright. You didn’t make it.

And while you’re scraping yourself up off the floor, you also have to deal with all the emotional BS that comes with it. Then its all, why wasn’t that person there, why did i jump? Maybe I didn’t jump off the right cliff… and before you know it, you’re taking your broken self onto the next cliff, devoid of all logic. You’re going to jump and this time the person will be there… sometimes they are and sometimes they aren’t.

Nobody ever really knows what happens when the person isn’t there, that shit doesn’t happen in movies. In Movies, the girl jumps off the cliff and the boy is there, even if he happened to be in Greece in the scene before-he uses his supersonic powers and he is at the bottom of that cliff, arms out, ready and waiting…

I’m not in a movie though. I jumped and well… I’ve been lying face down on this cold hard concrete for the past 72 hours and its becoming clearer that he didn’t “miss the plane” or stop to get me a bunch of roses. No. he just isn’t coming…

And that’s that. It is what it is…

The sun doesn’t always come out when you need it too, they don’t always have purple balloons and sometimes the ice cream machine is broken. All you can do is go with the cloudy day, choose a different balloon, find another ice cream machine, and make it work.

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