Have you ever wondered who’s arms would you run and fall into if you were drunk in a room with everyone you have ever loved?
Yes, a lot of times.
I begin to picture that room is filled with 3 people — my high school sweetheart, my first love and another love that makes me forget I’ve been hurt before.
Hypothetically, I’m not blackout drunk; I’m in the phase of being honest drunk — like everything that comes out from my mouth is a brutal honesty in regards to how I feel towards them. And hypothetically — just to be fair — everyone in that room is not attached to another person. It is going to be all about me and how I feel toward each of them and vice versa.
In the beginning, when I first see my high school sweetheart, I will definitely hug him and tell him how sorry I am for all the times I frustrated him; hurt him; and disrespected him. I will tell him my sincerest apology, and how badly it hurt me too, and I may ask him what can I do to make it better; does it help if did something to make it up to you for all these years?
Following this, when I first see my first love, — which happened to cut all contacts with me after we broke up — I will be amazed for his decision to meet me face to face. I will tell him that he hurt me so bad and the wound it caused is engraved perfectly in my heart; but I have moved on. I don’t love him anymore; I’ve had enough with his bullshit; and I just realized that he is — by far — the cruelest and the lowest man that has ever walked the planet. He didn’t deserve me. Yes I’ve loved him once; I’ve loved him very deeply; I’ve loved him until I was not. I am finally done.
And finally, when I first exchange glimpse with this one person that has “fixed” me, I know I’m going to instantly cry of happy tears. No explanation needed. He’s the person who made me whole again after all the chaos I had to endure. And now when I have become completed on my own it is him that I want to share everything with.
Drunk or sober, the person I will run and fall into anytime anywhere is this very special person. He knows every wound inside me, every scar that hasn’t healed, every demon that keeps me up at night and yet he still kisses me like I’m the most holy thing he had ever known.
Thanks for reading Writers Guild — A Penname publication
Share your stories on ManyStories.com to reach more readers. Auto-tweet your stories on repeat with Signal to increase engagement.