Teardrops of Roses [Completed]

Epilogue

~❤~

Attending the University of Sydney and boarding alone on campus, I threw myself into everything and anything that life could throw my way whilst simultaneously ignoring the fact that he'd graduated from here too. 

But it was the best institution in the country, and be it social clubs, part time work (when my studies allowed it), writing articles for the local press or even partying; every waking second and minute of my life was spent doing some sort of curricular. I couldn't allow myself any down time because that was when limbo occurred, and I risked never wanting to leave the bed again.

I knew how easy it was to fall in that hole; I dwelled there long enough during my formative years, and even for a brief moment there before graduating high school, I felt the same spunky spur of unluckiness plaguing my thoughts, seeping into my life again with a raging force. This time however, I nipped the unmotivated hymns in the buds, just in time for final exams. 

To escape that hopeless feeling that often popped up in my head during my uni degree, I knew that if there was something I even so slightly desired, I had to do it fast – without ever thinking. Call it a form of evasion, but I rather think of it as shock therapy; there would barely be enough time for me to think about riding the motions, and then before I knew it, I would have done it. Over come it. 

That was how four years was done and dusted.

I applied this method of thinking to every part of my day: from studies, performances, socialising and even my love life. Yes, I decided that I had all but truly conquered my fear of society and men until I was able to get myself my first ever boyfriend.

So, I said 'yes' whenever a male would asked me out– or sometimes I asked them out first. That way I could be the one in charge calling the shots before someone else had the chance to throw me into the deep water.

I was wiser now; I wasn't going to let myself be burned this time. It took too long to recover.

~❤~

I met the first of many at book club. He was a honest guy... Tall and dark haired, nice smile with a dimple– though that wasn't the main reason I dated him, I promise. Initially attracted to his understandings of the world (book smart I believe it's called) there was almost an endearing manner to how he always blushed whenever I called his name.
He was easy to talk to, and we talked just about anything and everything, except my trauma which I still kept guarded. But really, we could spend the whole day chatting together about whatever popped into our minds, or what we saw, heard or read.

However, when it soon became apparent that I couldn't escape the haunting reminiscing thoughts whenever I saw him at a distance (too blurry to make out in proper detail), or whenever I approached him from a certain angle where I couldn't make out his face, but could see his tall, broad statue and my heart would speed up, I broke it off suddenly.
He was the one I most apologetic towards.

The second man I went for was different. He was a slender artsy man, who enjoyed tying his long blonde locks into a pony tail. I didn't mind that.
He was from the design department, helping out with the stage work for a play I was performing the piano for. I thought his his free spirit and open world views was exactly what I needed. He was easy to please, level-headed and up for doing anything I wanted.
Honestly anything I named. 

Eventually I started to get suspicious of how far I could push him, and no matter what I suggested, the more absurd the idea, it didn't phase him at all. Even up until the point where we were about to board the small plane to go sky diving. I backed out, he didn't.

As I watched on from below after crying pathetically by the waiting room, I felt as though I was the biggest failure in the world.

"Don't cry, Love. It's okay. We were too scared to jump too." The families of the other brave skydivers sought to console me. "It's not a big deal if you couldn't jump today, there's always next time. Don't hold yourself to that regard, you're strong!"

 I thanked them, managing a small smile. But couldn't bear to tell them that I wasn't crying over not jumping.
I was crying because it meant that it was on to another man for me. I couldn't stand to be with someone so passive.