The Problem With Butterflies

It's funny how one song could make you miss a person so badly that you end up getting your phone and texting him.

It's funny how one song could stir so much emotion in you that you end up curling up in bed and looking at the window as your mind wanders into the deepest, darkest part of your soul where memories that you've tried hard to forget are stored.

It's funny how one song could make you question everything that has happened...make you second guess the decisions you have recently made...make you re-evaluate your life.

Is it really funny though? Is it really such a ridiculous idea or are you just trying to find humor in this tragedy to dilute its adverse effects?

You know the truth. You know that giving into the temptation of rekindling a love lost (even if it's only in your mind) is a masochistic act;

It's painful.

It's unforgivable.

It's morbid.

When you re-open that little box where you stored him and his memories, you lose all rational thought and self-control. You let yourself do things that you know won't benefit you in any kind of way.

You are perfectly aware of its repercussions and yet you still deliberately subject yourself to it. Your personal commandments of "you shouldn't-s" suddenly ticks itself with a glaring red ink of failure.

You know you shouldn't allow yourself to get sucked into this bottomless pit of what ifs and what could've beens for the second time around.

You know you shouldn't, at all costs, let those memories of warm sunny days and green luscious leaves, of bright smiles and stress-relieving conversations, bomb a hole into the heart that you've worked so hard on repairing.

You know you shouldn't let your heart skip a beat at the mere mention of his name, or the scent of his perfume, or worse, the sight of his face.

You know you shouldn't, but you still do.

You still feel the violent thumping in your heart, the chills down your spine, and the flutters of butterflies in your stomach.

And that's where the hardest dilemma comes in.

Those things should not be there anymore, and yet you still experience them in every molecule of your body.

There should not be any palpitations and irregular heart beats.

There should not be any current of electricity flowing through your veins.

There should not be butterflies.

Not anymore.

They should've been exterminated a long time ago together with the dreams and hopes that came with loving him.

They should've decayed with the papers filled with his words, elegantly brought to life by his stubby script.

They should've left the minute he walked out of your life.

They should've died.

They should've, and yet they didn't.

The problem with butterflies is that they never leave once they hatch and find solace in the depths of your being.

They act as constant reminders of what you thought you had, what you almost had, and what you never had.

They won't leave.They never will.

They will torture you till your dying breath.

They will make their presence felt whenever you see the spot where he left you, or when you pass by your usual table at the library.

The butterflies will throw away your desire for closure and instead replace it with a longing for a relapse.

And you, yes you. You will enjoy every bitter-sweet moment of it.

You will laugh and cry about the heartaches and the heartbreaks, but you will never give-up on him.

You'll let yourself lose a lifetime of sanity in exchange for even just two nights of bliss.

Because the problem with butterflies is you really don't want to get rid of it because at the back of your mind, you know it's never going to be just a casual set-up.

You can never, ever swallow the idea of you and him as just friends.