(PHASES) Phase 6: Red Shoes

One time, I saw a woman struggle. She had bought a pair of red shoes that were slightly tighter than her feet could fit. Yet, the pair was her favourite— a fetish. She would wear them every chance she had.

She had them on; even with the numbness that followed when she took them off, and the ache and sores that appeared after. She wore them proudly everywhere, endured it all and got through each day because it made her happy. Every time I thought about her, you always crossed my mind.

As a colour, red is connected with a lot of things. Danger, life, vigour, anger. It represents the things that seem to only exist by passion. The thing with passion is that it comes with obsession. It’s like this. Yes, you want something or someone, you’ve dreamt about having them within your reach. But are you obsessed to the point where you need to be to actually grasp them?

For the second time, I was obsessed with someone. This was different and pleasingly unsettling. Perhaps because I had been caught off guard. I have always known myself to be self-aware.

I have a knack for setting balance with the things and people I hold precious to me— enough to hang onto it, but not so much that I get lost in it. I always know when to let go of what is not serving me and I took pride in it. I had learnt the art of detachment and mastered it, or at least I thought I did. Then, this feeling came.

Why did it have to be you?
I think that every person we like, either reminds us of something we wished we could change in the past or something we hope to possess in our lives. For me, you were both. You know how to make people feel seen, what to say, and tell people what they needed to hear. And I loved you for it.

I loved how you recognised yourself in others and embraced your shortcomings almost without hesitation. But, the thing with having such discernment is that it comes with its own curse too.

To me, it always seemed like you were holding the weight of the world. I thought, for someone to be the way you were, perhaps, it meant they found themselves in such circumstances. I wondered how many of them you’ve had to be in to wield your intuition so generously.

There were times I would imagine you going back home at the end of each day, taking off the mask you had on to fit in, to be what people wanted you to be.

I wanted to understand you and learn how you wanted to be loved. Compromising has never been my strength, nevertheless, I wanted to try with you. I wanted to hear what your laugh sounded like, again and again, when it didn’t have those repeated, uniform patterns.

You were my pair of red shoes. Every time you crossed my mind, I always dreamt of walking to you. And, I did. I walked to you, even when it was barely convenient. When my legs were weary from never taking them off, the pain didn’t matter, because it was you.

Sometimes, I liked to imagine that there was an alternate universe where we created a world for us both. There, we didn’t have regrets, and we were above our flaws and scars. There was no moral of the story to take home. Instead, there was just us, sinking in our faith, with time on our hands, and the will to be better for each other.

However, I have finally accepted that I will never have my version of normality, whenever you’re involved. With you, there’ll always be chaos.

It has been more than a year since I’ve been writing this, but I keep running from it. I know that once I finish this, it will end it all. It would turn my nostalgia into something trivial. Every memory would gradually lose substance with each word I wrote. And, I would have to come to terms with the idea of moving on and putting you behind me.

This was supposed to be another poem, to put a label on what I felt like Rory said. Yet, here I am again, going out of my way.

What went wrong?
I’ve replayed every memory of you more times than I could remember. At some point, I don’t think I had any choice. Whether it was against my will or not, I was constantly reminded, frantically searching for the next puzzle to decipher, the next clue that I missed. Why did I like you? Why did we fall out before everything barely began? Did I deserve it? How did I get blind-sighted?

I searched endlessly for what you did wrong. Then, I went on to search for the things I did wrong. The more I searched for answers, the more I questioned everything I believed in. Was loving someone with every fibre of my being worth it? Was this the cost of my idealism? Will my love ever be enough?

While it might be easier to put all the blame on you, I know that I would just be lying to myself. I know what I did too. Deep down, I think a part of me knew this was never going to end well. Still, I desperately wanted to have the odds in my favour. I never admitted it out loud, but my heart prayed for it till the last minute.

I had become greedy and built my expectations unrealistically high that I had even prepared for the worst. But, it’s funny that no matter how well we assume we’ve seen something coming, we realise nothing could have prepared us enough for it, to begin with.

Most of my memories about what we had might have been superficial or exaggerated. The red flags stood tall, yet, I wanted to see how far I could go. Somehow, I kept getting my hands dirty and could not keep my distance.

I blame myself for the gravity of my delusions. I painted a picture too and treasured it like it was real, practical, and tangible. Like holding onto it so firmly would make it our reality— a reality we never agreed on. But, did we ever agree to anything?

There was never room for anything to grow. We did not trust each other, and we did not dare to acknowledge that we wanted different things. While we were running away from making decisions, life was moving on, dropping the bomb faster than we could imagine.

What changed?

Of all the things that hurt me, the effect you had on me was the greatest. I hated the way you changed me. I lost control. Whatever was left of my ability to move away from things that didn’t serve me, you took from me.

You, of all people, the one who hurt me, left the greatest effect on me, and you were not even aware of it. I can’t proudly think about the people who changed me and think of you. I remember how I used to feel so much rage about it because I felt infringed on.

I don’t know if you ever cherished what we had like I did. Whether you did or not, there’s a limit to being understanding. For the people we care about, it might be easier to overwhelm ourselves with trying to understand the absurdity of their behaviours. And, we might motivate them to change, but the truth is the truth.

We can only see others as deep as we see ourselves. We can’t force the people we love to see us the way we want when they don’t see themselves in that light. We can’t teach them to love us the way we desire if they are not ready to embrace us. We cannot show them how to love themselves beyond the depths of our imagination, if they are not ready to realise it. For this reason, I’m giving my red shoes.

I, for sure, believe that relationships take a huge piece of us to exist. It changes us, good or bad. We either become self-aware or more ignorant of our flaws; and we become more clueless about who we think we are or gain a little more clarity of who we aspire to be.

For me, I’ve learnt to look out for the darker side of people more quickly. I’ve been learning to hold my guard and secrets tighter. My level of resilience keeps churning. I now embrace my emotions and pay extra attention to my fears and doubts.

I’m aware that I may not be able to choose whatever I want to make sense of and whenever I want to feel them, yet, I can decide how I want to act on them.

It’s not the end of the world after a heartbreak. Like I always have, I’m going to make the best of my life with what I have at the moment. Whether I want to or not, life will keep going, and so will you. Whenever I think about it now, it won’t be the same old routine. I won’t feel fragile, and all of this won’t matter.

Rather, I’ll define things on my terms. I’ll regard this as something different, as some kind of salvation. Scrap that. I’ll remind myself till it’s part of me, that you were simply a means to an end, a stepping stone to the next point of my lifetime.

When we think of memories or get nostalgic, we tend to reach out to the good ones first. But, if there’s anything I’ll thank you for, it would be the gift of pain. Thank you for teaching me that pain can be a memory too. I didn’t expect some fairytale from the beginning, but at some point, I was tempted to think it could happen.

Even at that, I am not ashamed of what I hoped for. I think I found it effortless to dream because I loved you far more than my expectations. Regardless of what happened, I had those moments to cherish. They are mine and that is enough.

You did not deserve to be an exception, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m slowly accepting that I made a mistake with love, with you. When I think about you these days, I feel mixed emotions. However, I believe it’s better than the times I used to feel just numb or have that knot in my chest.

I still get confused about where I should be with my emotions. When you cross my mind, I wonder if I should be concerned enough to wish you well, or to ignore it all.

But, I’ve chosen not to worry about my emotions anymore. It took a long time, but I’m finally learning that I can’t logic my way out of my feelings.

These days, the resentment keeps on fading away and I feel pity for you instead. I think about how many rock bottoms it took for you to have become this way. I think about how many more you might have faced after.

Hesitantly, some part of me hopes that you slowly learn to untangle from your pain, and that it ceases to fester; that you finally find your nemesis, not just as an arrested state, but as your place of peace.

However, do not think that such hope comes completely from the goodness of my heart. I am aware that if it was left to you, you would rather live in circles. You would rather run away for the rest of your life than live with your trauma, even if it means dragging everyone around you into it.

So, I can only hope that no one else has to endure what I went through with you. No one deserves that type of love.