Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
If you don’t believe you’re worthy of love you’ll never know what to do with love when you get it.
And I had Marina’s love. I had it. I had all of it. Right in my hands. She gave me her love expecting me to hold it and keep it safe, the same way I felt safe in her arms, how I felt she was my sanctuary.
I never wanted to hurt.
I never wanted to bail.
I wanted to love her. I swear I did.
And now it’s too late. I broke her trust when I broke her heart and then I destroyed my own heart in the process. It never even had a chance to know what it was capable of.
It never had a chance to fight.
“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re an idiot,” Scooby says.
I side-eye him. “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Because you are your own worst enemy. You sabotaged yourself. This is all your doing.”
“Still not helping, Scooby.”
“This was all in your hands, bro. You did this.”
“I don’t think I can talk to you anymore.” I have a sip of beer. It tastes bitter.
“Meaning,” he goes on, “you weren’t rejected. You weren’t told you weren’t worth it. You had her love and you still have it and that’s something.”
“She hates me,” I tell him.
“That girl hates no one,” he says. “She loves you. You don’t turn that off.”
“Why are you so adamant?”
“Hey, I may be a bit weird but it doesn’t mean I haven’t found and loved my own weirdos over time.”
Weirdos. Find your weirdo. That’s what Marina had said to Noah.
“You know, the normal people can have each other, that’s cool. Good for them. Be normal. That doesn’t interest me. But just because I’m an acquired taste who rides a bike down on Venice dressed like Abe Lincoln, doesn’t mean that there aren’t plenty of women who like a guy like me, who want someone strange and unusual. Anyway, my point is…what was my point?”
“I have no idea.”
“Right. Marina. You guys are good together. You’re better than good. She’s in love with you and you fucked up. Big time. And I know you totally broke her heart and, once again, you’re pretty fucking stupid for doing that. But she still loves you. It doesn’t dissolve like that.”
“Love turns into hate pretty quickly,” I point out quietly.
“Mmmm, I don’t think so. I think people say that. I think because love and hate are the strongest emotions, people think they are interchangeable. And honestly, it’s easier to hate than to love. There is no risk in hate while love is based on risk. We just want to protect ourselves, that’s all.” He pauses to finish his beer. “So while Marina might be so hurt and angry that you broke up with her that she feels like she hates you, she doesn’t. That’s still love, just wearing a different mask. Believe me. Lift up the mask and you’ll see.”
I have to admit, Scooby’s words are giving me hope. Hope that maybe she still loves me. That maybe it’s not too late and we aren’t over.
“I think your problem right now,” he says while gesturing to the bartender for another beer, “is that you want her to love you but you’re too afraid of loving her. I think you need to look inside yourself and then you’ll see you shouldn’t be afraid to let anything happen because it already has happened. You already do love her. I bet you have from the start. But if you’ve never been in love before, if you’ve actively shied away from it, well then how would you know? You can put lipstick on a pig and pretend it’s a sexy lady but if you’re honest with yourself, you still know it’s a pig.”
“I’m sorry…what?”
“Am I getting the analogy wrong?” He shrugs and then thanks the bartender as he’s passed another beer. “Anyway, you get my drift. If you actually want Marina back, you can’t just go and do it. You have to know what you want, recognize how you feel, and then, only then, you have to grovel. You have to grovel like a son of a bitch.”
I exhale, my nerves alight. The groveling I can do, I just don’t know if it will work.
But she’s my best friend. She deserves more than this.
And I won’t let her go without a fight.
I’m going to start fighting for everything now.
With a stack of printed out papers in one hand, I march toward Marina’s house, going for the gate. It’s nine at night, the street is dark and quiet, the air humid.
I’ve sent flowers to her house.
I’ve sent gift baskets.
More flowers.
Chocolates.
I’ve texted and emailed and called Marina repeatedly over the last few days, asking to see her, speak with her. Even just to know if she’s been getting my presents.