Teardrops of Roses [Completed]

Epilogue

And on I went to the third, the forth, the fifth the sixth guy in the midst of juggling my studies and career. By the eight speed date, I wasn't sure why it was such a big deal to me to have to have someone who I could say was my significant other, because none of them were for sure. It wasn't even like I had anything to prove to anybody.

It's just that no matter what I did, I was determined to librate myself from the very two, most condemning words that cursed my whole existence afterwards.

S******** S*******.

I tried so hard to distance myself from that notion and while I believe I succeeded in most aspect of my life (apart from my love life) it was no use. I was only interested in the men up until the point of the first kiss, and then I'd drop everything. To them, it appeared out of no where. 

But it wasn't that there was anything wrong with the guys or the kisses necessarily terrible. I mean, I'd kiss lips that felt like sea slugs regurgitating, and other's parched as the desert sand. There were a whole range of good kisses too; though some too soft, too hard and or even too passionate, none ever came close to measuring up to that gut-wrenching kiss from years ago.

There was always one sensation I was chasing that it seemed no one could supply it. 

Burning.

I wanted to feel my soul burning when I kissed.  I wanted to feel the pain on my lips.

I couldn't seem to shake this damning desire no matter what I did; and once I realised this, it filled me with so much dread that I gave up dating all together and promised my life to renewed celibacy.  Perhaps I was doomed after all, After all it seemed nothing could satisfy me. My solution was to avoid love for now, until later, when future Rose can deal with salvaging whatever scraps of emotions I'd left.

That wasn't to say though, that my Uni years was spent mindlessly pursuing my quest of conquering the opposite sex; that was still the least of my worries. I manage to hunker down and brute my way through my coursework.

Finally after four gruelling years, I graduated on a splendid night which my family flew down to witness, and I was ready to make the next decisions for the next stage of my life. Which was where I was now, back in home in Melbourne for a few celebratory weeks until I settle myself and pick somewhere to set up my new business venture.

I planned on opening up a musical therapy clinic for traumatized children, with the later possibility of branching out into other forms such as art, movement and play therapy in the future. I'd presented my case during the trials of our University's version of the SharkTank, and managed to received a hefty financial backing from some noteworthy backers who saw my vision. I was very fortunate to be in the position of my entrepreneurship where the only thing hindering my process was choosing a location to set up shop. That was on me.

I was incredibly indecisive and torn between my options. They were as follows:

My hometown Melbourne where it was close to family, friends and loved ones; Perth where some of the most important recovery years took place; or Sydney?

Deep down, I couldn't help but think that the earlier two of the options would have been like a step into the past. Honestly, my better logic was leaning towards Sydney; it was where I started my new life, my new beginning. But I was still too afraid to officially put it on paper. 

There must have been something seriously wrong with me because no matter how much I tried to fight it, it seemed something was truly holding me back. It took me this long to realise that someone was holding me back. At the risk of sounding selfishly exactly like the two 'S' words he'd label me as, I was tired of running. Tired of trying to tune out these thoughts of him.