I still remember as if it were yesterday, the day I learnt i was holding on to thin air, the day I learnt, maybe just maybe it was time I picked myself at least this once.
But as shameful as it is for me to admit now, i hadn’t at that time. i picked love again, I picked heartache, i picked wondering where i stood, i picked painful long nights buried in thoughts of “what have i done wrong”
“What about me” i had asked that day countless times with tears almost drenching my hijab.
What about me and the countless years i spent, what about me and the love exploding out of my chest for him, what about me and where i am to go now?
“I’ll be a second one” i said to him, “i don’t mind as long as it’s you am spending the rest of my life with, I’ll be a second one”
But what did i receive in return? “You deserve to be happy” who was he to decide where i drew happiness from me? Who was he to decide to bestow my happiness on another? Who was he to deny me happiness – to deny me him?
As painful as that day was, i got freedom, i was freed from a belief that, someone could keep me happy, that love from another will be sufficient for the love i lacked for myself.
This love taught me how to love and it also thought me i needed to love myself on all days, with or without another’s love. That i needed to pick me.
And that’s what love does, painfully teaches you that at the end of the day, it’s just you, with the love of your life or without, it’s just you.