I thought it was romantic when he ordered a hotel suite just so he could fuck me. I thought he loved me when he said he wanted to buy a house together. I'm the fool. I swam in his lies. What kind of fool falls in love with liars and fantasies? He poisoned my heart and emptied my mind until everything I could remember or wanted had melted away into the pools of hot summer days. I ached. After he fucked me, my body ached, too. I became so numb and struck by my dumbness -- I was so ready to run away from my goals and my ambitions, so ready to sell it to the stupidest girl I could find, but there I was, staring straight at myself in the mirror for hours. I wasn't perfect, but he made me think I was.
Such poison stays with you, even after they've drained the blood out of your lifeless body. I remained limp for days, unable to stand still. I was a wreck, and for nothing at all. Because I didn't lose anything, except for myself. I gave away my spirit, mind, and body for him, and he let it seep through him. Bouncing off the walls I came again and again, hoping to free him from himself, hoping he would come into me, but he just spun around the room, eyes down-casted and always cold. He never doubted me, said I was magical, but he didn't believe me. What did we have, really? Maybe it was only physical, the actual fucking and dancing, but I can't believe it. I threw my mind away for a fool like that, and I became a fool, too. I hated myself all the while; he made me hate myself. All the while he loved me.
Each night, he'd say the same speech. I would cry and he would knock me senseless, rock me to sleep until my dream could tear the insanity of reality away from me. He never told me he loved me. He only whispered it when he knew I couldn't hear him, but in his eyes, he shouted at me every day. I love you, I love you. It took me a while to realise that he didn't. Because he was married and had a child he loved. What was I, then? A fool. A whore. A loveless wreck.
One day I left and he didn't say goodbye. He just watched me walk away in a quiet fit that stung across an ocean. I could feel his gloomy stare, not filled with anger or miser, nor sadness, but something completely different. Something you hardly see in a man in love. He look resembled regret. There was something in his look that made me regretful, a sort of pain that was reflected on the outside for everyone to see, and I was embarrassed. He wasn't regretful, because he would soon leave, too, and forget all about me and everything, but I carried my regret with me home and I vowed to tell no one, but the words slipped out the second I landed. I was in love, and I had to hide it. I was embarrassed of my heart and my body, and I knew everyone could see it. I had been used and abused by a man who didn't love me, but said he did, and though I didn't love him, I said I did, too. What were we kidding? Nothing we had was real, and yet we carried on like such idiots. I blame him for it, now, because he could of said something the whole time. Such simple words, now, just say you're married. I could say I had a boyfriend, but what does that matter now?
Goddamn. I am such a goddamn fool. It didn't take too long to get over my regrets, and eventually his memory faded away from me and I regained myself bit by bit. My boyfriend left me. And I was alone, again. My lover left me, too. He moved on and I never heard from him again, after he promised me he would keep me close until a year passed and we could run away together. But I knew that year would never come. For a while, I was angry -- at him, at myself, at everyone around me. Because it wasn't enough that everyone knew my shame and guilt, but they also knew his secret, too. All the while, as I danced and fucked all night, everyone around us knew the dirty truth.
"We thought you knew, too." They said, regretfully. But I didn't have a fucking clue. They watched me spiral down a hopeless hole with a bastard who just wanted to fuck me and leave me, and somewhere in between to love me. If everyone knew, then I'm even more of a goddamn fool than I thought.
I walk around the busy streets like a machine. Stone cold, emotionless, cutting. I can't fall in love again, it's like I'm broken, but I'm okay with that. Some come and some stay now, but I can't feel them anymore. I don't want to feel them at all. I just breathe in and out, watching the stars shine at night in a smogless world. I am alone without feeling lonely, and it's all I need. A girl in love is the greatest fool on earth, and I am a crazy girl who would do anything for the man I loved. I don't want to love again. I'm not going to love again. Fools are dead. Love is dead. And I am okay with that.