Black Love

Falling in love is a beautiful thing, your heart is in a flutter and thoughts of romance and happily ever afters float around your head, constantly.

However, when you've got the wrong end of the stick when it comes to love, you suddenly don't feel hungry anymore. You don't want to eat your favourite chocolate bar. Your ice cream scoop shaped cheeks are turning bright red. Underneath it all, you feel cold and stupid.

You start doubting yourself. Of course they've got a partner. Of course they have. I'm an idiot aren't I. I should've known there was another person in the picture.

To top it off, you've been patronised as well with the other person saying, "I'm sorry if I led you on. I didn't know I did that".

You stare at the person in silence. The feeling of mortification rises exponentially. Your throat tightens and there's pain hitting in your chest. You really feel like the most dumbest person ever. The person who got completely the wrong end of the stick. You were so stupid in thinking the other person may have had feelings for you.

You feel sick with humiliation. Then you start to be self-conscious how others see you. You're the silly person who didn't understand the difference between Brie and Camembert cheese. You're the person who didn't know Matt Preston from Masterchef wears cravats. Above all, you think you're the only person in the world where people won't take you seriously.

You don't like how you were being treated, so you stiffly stand up and defend yourself. Then before they can say anything, you run out of the room quickly, filled with disappointed tears.

When you arrive home, you feel weary and miserable. Real life sinks in. Home to a place where it still smells like burnt peanuts and piles of bills stacked on the kitchen bench. You call a friend up to distract yourself - you get hysterical if you should purchase a bag from Country Road or Mimco and how you're mystified that people find Justin Bieber talented.

You go to bed forgetting about the whole situation. Only to wake up the next morning, with all the memories rushing back to you like a scary movie. You wake up looking pale and unsteady and wishing you could take a sickie. You want to stay home and watch day time telly, but you don't. You go out and do your normal thing, just because you don't want to be swallowed by the sadness of the situation.

Happy reading,
5ft0