what does loving the wrong person teach you?

One question I have always been asked is “what loving the wrong person has taught you?”. 

At that moment, the world seemed to stop. My pounding heart was the only sound heard in the drop dead silence, my eyes used to prickle with tears from the wound. The burning scar that is everlasting, that has created hundreds of other invisible ones inside out. The muffled screams and the gaping of my mouth, as I fail to find words to explain whatever my heart and mind were deciding against. 

Loving the wrong person was a wicked haunt, the killer or should I say killers were always on the loose, I was always on the run for a refugee only to find myself in dark places, the more I run, the more taunting it got. Till I reached a moment of helplessness, numbness and misery. So I did what I can do best at that time surrender my soul to no further fight, nor obligation. As time passed, I learnt patience, somehow these moments of defeats seem to help me regain some will power to start finding the light , planning my escape. All that I felt was rage, grief , as I trembled with every move and every thought. It’s like I am being watched, like I am sinning, but my only sin was watching them viciously planning out my murder. The meaning of love was as false as the silhouettes that explained it to me. Love for them was enduring pain and punishments for things you didn’t commit, objecting to the treatment was a mistake that at that moment love wasn’t the sensation roaming through you , instead it was the bittersweet taste that they masked to feel good at that time. It was the lingering whispers that made you jump once you hear it, it’s the lookalike of physical abuse, only it left more tips of madness with each passing minute. 

Loving the wrong person taught me that I have an invisible amount of grace, delicacy that is untouchable, that was almost hindered with before. The entanglement of strength from faith that I am worthy, that I am human , that I am a creation of thunder and hurricanes, that my mind is a limitless sky with uncountable stars. That I am a person with the tenderness to lead a kingdom solely, that my solitude is a right that shouldn’t be earned only to be understood , that is a nature that I won’t change. That my anger is a result of wrath deep within my spirit, that it can destruct as much as it can put off flames in my loved one. That softness is  not a weakness but a site of unimaginable creations, the aftermath of my battles. Loving the wrong person allowed me to explore more of what people can do to each other in order to prove a point. That just observing someone is nothing compared to the inside. That the light breeze of a cold spring day can all that a person hope for to help heal the cuts and bruises covered up. That at 12 am standing on top of a cliff looking down at the twinkling lights of all that seems far is the only time a person can engage in what’s hidden behind the closed doors. At that same moment, the faint noises, the darkness is all that brings the melancholic memory that brings a small smile and threatening tears that have caught a person in a moment of being frail. 

Even after all this time, after all these achievements, the other happy moments, there’s always the sentiment of warmth that I fell for before when I was that trusting into a person. Even at times when you are surrounded by people with their laughs and smiles, the twinkle in their eyes could bring warmth to the absence of warmth in my own.