A Hue of Blu: the unforgettable love story

by Marie-France Léger

Pain became happiness. Happiness became pain. Pain became comfort, and that comfort was bliss.

You value love over everything, even in the absence of it.” Even in the absence of it.

“You didn’t offend me.” Liar. Everything offended me. Rejection. Judgement. Words. Actions. My past. My present. Myself.

Before I could open my mouth, Blu slapped a palm on my desk, leaning up from her slump. She said one word. One word that sent all the waves of serotonin into overdrive. One word that no one had ever said to me in my entire life. A word I craved to hear. A word that did not exist to my ears. “Mine.”

Why didn’t he come? Why didn’t he like me? Was I that horrible? Was I that unlovable that someone could never see the good parts of myself? Were there any good parts left?

“Good enough to fuck,” I stated. “Not good enough to love,” I accepted.

That was also the moment I realized how little of myself I had left, when I was trying to please everyone else.

I walked away from Kyle, didn’t I? Maybe he stayed a lot longer than he should have, but eventually I left (when I had no choice). I left. I left. I loved myself. I loved my – I loved . . . I hated myself.

It resembled euphoric bliss every time I took a blade to my flesh and felt something other than mental drought.

I wanted to scream, to shut my mind off, to burn the thoughts that made me anxious. But I couldn’t. I spiralled. I constantly worried. No reassurance in the world could settle my nerves.

You could be the greatest person, perform the grandest gestures, but if that someone never valued the love you

The pressure I carried to be the girl he wanted was overwhelming and unattainable. I’d broken every part of me trying to fit into that pretty, perfect mould. I’d lost sight of who I was just so he could glance in my direction for one second – because that one second was my heroin. And he watched me overdose.

It was exhausting to chase after someone who never wanted you from the start. It was even more exhausting to pretend that there was a chance in hell you could change their mind. “Honestly Jace . . . ” How real was I getting? Screw it. “You fucked me over,” I started, bleeding into the pain I felt for months. “You

He never did anything with me as the primary focus. I was never a priority, never first. I satisfied him, but I was never enough to fulfill him.

He consumed me when we were together, but he consumed me most when we weren’t; when I had to worry about who he was talking to, who was better than me. The right person would have never given me those doubts to begin with.

The right person would have danced with me in a sea of stars or burning lava. The point is – They would have danced.