Late night convos 1

“Who hurt you? Enough to make you so damn cynical about commitment and love?” She asked you bleary eyed while puffing away at her cigarette. 

“No, one.” You say, “and I’m not saying this just to halt any further inquest, it is true. I’ve never been in a position to be hurt that much to not believe in relationships, it’s just, you know, I’ve seen people lose themselves in the idea of forever that they forget to leave something for themselves, so that when the other person leaves it’s as if a part of them is torn from their being. I don’t want that to happen to me.” 

“That’s fucked up. Honey, pain is inevitable in this world. Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘la douleur exquise’?” She asked.

“Exquisite pain? Now who’s fucked up? That’s quite masochistic don’t you think?” 

She laughed. She lighted another stick. “There is a fine line between pleasure and pain. That is not the point though, we’re talking about your fear of commitment. You’ve never been in a relationship before, right? So how would you know you would not enjoy being in a relationship?”

You rolled your eyes at her, exasperated, as if she did not digest a single word you said. “I told you, yes, I haven’t been in a relationship before but that does not mean that I haven’t been in a situation where I got burned pretty badly. I mean, sure I never had a boyfriend before, but I’ve seen my friends be in a relationship, lose themselves in it, then be broken once the whole shit fell apart.”

“You should stop living life vicariously.”

“And you should probably stop telling me what to do about my fears.”

“Tell me the truth then. Why so adamant about not getting into a relationship?”

“The truth? I’ve no idea. I’m used to being on my own for so long that being part of a ‘couple’ or something scares me. It’s unfamiliar territory, and I’m terrible at compromise. I am a selfish person, I suppose.”

“You should probably venture out of your comfort zone, you know.”

“I know, but I have no idea how. Every time that I entertain the idea of being in a relationship, I feel as if though I’m being shackled.”



“You know when you write for too long the side of your fingers chafe, it will be red,  slightly tender, and warm. Your skin will repair itself eventually, but then you would write for too long again, your skin would chafe, your skin would heal. Overtime you would have calluses, and your skin wouldn’t chafe anymore. Calluses are tough, rough, and they decrease the eventual pain.”

“What is your point?”

“Don’t give me hope. Enough hope that I may decide to do something about the calluses. Don’t make me forget all my scars, especially if you’re going to leave me with new wounds. I can deal with my old pain but I don’t think I can take new ones, much more so if it’s you who inflicted it.”

“I can’t promise you. I can’t promise you anything, actually. I can’t promise that you won’t get hurt, I can’t promise to not give you hope when there’s none, I can’t. But I will try, I will try to do my best not to hurt you, us. Pain is inevitable my dear, but I will try to soften it. Even if it means I will be hurting more. You’re not the only one with scars, with calluses, but I will be willing to take more wounds for you.”