Lost the last love

I can't quite remember the feeling of emptiness till I was reminded how empty I actually am; how weary and how I've struggled to come to terms with the truth - that I no longer feel.

It's impossible to tell how important someone was till tears prove you wrong, till you breakdown and yearn for the beautiful past which can no longer be mended - a jigsaw out of its place. So why is it that I have not broken down and reduced to tears with all that was said, all that we've gone through and all that might have been?

So do I love? Probably. But always with one foot on the ground and never losing my mind for the sake of the heart.

I tiptoe, I give it my best shot, I tread lightly, I suss out the possible angles of hurt I might have to endure, I interrogate, I psycho-analyse, I probe and probe and probe...and then I leave.

I handle them with care. Not caring for them but caring for my heart. It's almost like I'm handling a fragile piece of glass but the only thing is, they're not the ones made of glass - I am.

I do everything with caution, always aloof. So aloof that it has become my nature. I've learnt to be indifferent and this indifference causes pain to others. They said that I don't care, that I don't give a shit. That I am cold-blooded. They say that I do whatever I want and never think of the consequences.

I'd like to say that it's not because I don't care - it's because I choose not to. But if you look me in the eyes long enough, you'll know there's always something in the depths of my heart - a longing, sentimental romantic who's a wreck. And I do think of the consequences but I'm not someone who likes to be bogged down by things that have yet to occur.

So how can I tell if it's love, especially when the end is near?

Do I feel that I have to give my all to this person? Do I unwittingly give up all in the world to make it work? Is it still love when you become so used to having her with you, being with you, understanding your every need and knowing you through and through?

Is it still love when all you remember were happier times, trips to nowhere, meaningless private conversations which only you two could decipher?

Is it still love when what you love is the person you become when you're with her and not because of the person she is?

Is it still love when you want to reach out to her because you're concerned over her wellbeing, whether she's doing ok, whether she wants to satisfy some of her food cravings or whether she rested well?

Is it still love or is it empathy? How do you differentiate?

How can I ever utter "I love you" to anyone when I can never grasp the meaning behind those three words that have been the bane of everyone's existence? How can I even tell her that I'm sorry, two words which I understand so well?

I know that there is always a secret place in everyone's heart, a place they conceal yet dying to reveal. All I can say is that I'm honoured to have journeyed to her secret place...

Maybe I'm just acting tough and maybe I'm just not man enough. Always the cowardly me who never admits how wrong I can be.

No apologies and no regrets...right?