False Alarm

I thought that perhaps for once, I finally found someone who really cared for me. Who felt for me like I felt for them. But no. Just as it was given, it was taken away in one fell swoop. I wish I never asked. I wish I didn't know now. Because I can never forget it now. It was a lie in the end. Perhaps a lie circumstance told me. But it was cruel. To give me something so beautiful and to just take it away just like that. I was living in a dream. But now it's over. To have made me believe that this time it was real and there was a future and there was love. And to let it all crash down around me. That's needlessly cruel it is. Sometimes you just wanna rip your own heart out and stuff it into a hole in the ground and set it on fire so you never have to deal with all this bullshit again. What good are feelings for anyway. They never did anyone any good. Now I'm just so disappointed. And I felt lied to, led on and betrayed. 

I Understand None of It

I got the second chance i so sorely wanted. I prayed for it and I got it. And a part of me wonders now if I have truly gotten it. On the one hand, of course I did. I thought he would never have wanted to talk to me ever again. On the other hand a part of me wonders if it is just s superficial chance. That he is speaking to me now but he's not engaged anymore. That he's written me off and it's over. My chances are over.

But I cannot think like that. I got my second chance but no one ever said that it would be easy. No one ever said that it also included the complete obliteration of whatever mess I created and a clean start from a fresh slate. Nobody said that. I have a chance now, and that is a chance to fix my mistakes. A chance to make amends for all the shit that I've done and all the bullshit that I may have put someone through. Now I can't be spoilt brat and demand that everything be given to me on a silver platter. It is my mess and I'm going to have to work hard to fix. Just that, a part of me really worries that there's nothing I can do to fix it. What if all my efforts aren't good enough?

But I can't think like that either. I don't know for sure that that is the case. And I am the kind that tries no matter what till the very bitter end right? So you know you're gonna try either way because you always have hope and you can't know it's over until it's over. So you might as well keep trying without the negative mindset.

I learned so many things from that event. So many, many hurtful things. He said so many hurtful things that make me feel like curling up into a corner and die. He took a knife to my heart and just kept stabbing and twisting the knife. He said those words with malice and anger. He intended to make me hurt. And to serve his own issues as well. I guess a part of me is indignant and feels that it is so sorely unfair. That I can accept his issues and still love him for it and yet he can't. All he liked about me was superficial all along. And when the deeper side, and the darker side set in he couldn't see me in the same light anymore. I was no longer good. I was no longer shiny and brand new and good. Just because I committed the sin of being myself and being honest. He said he wanted the truth; all of it. The good, the bad and the ugly. But I guess he never said that if he got them that he could be able to accept them. So does it feel unfair? Yes it does. Of course it does. Does it hurt? Of course it does. But that is of no consequence. It's just the way it is. And there's no point going on about whether it's fair or not. It's just it.

I told him that I fell for him. And now I feel a right fool. I told someone something so personal. It made me so vulnerable and it's just embarrassing. And now he knows, and he doesn't feel the same. And he must feel like I am so pathetic. A sad, pathetic little naive, silly child. He might even feel awkward around me now.

But I can't think like that because once again I am giving in to those negative impulses that have ruled me all along. Sure, that is a possibility. But perhaps it's not. Perhaps it doesn't even matter to him at all and that while not good is endlessly better than what was suggested above. Just don't think about it. It is pointless and senseless and the same kind of madness that drove you over the edge so many times before. How many times can you make the same mistake before learning? Please learn.

He said such hurtful things but those things aside. I learned a lot.

I learned that projection is wrong. It doesn't matter what the previous guy did to me, how badly he treated and how much like trash he made me feel. It is not fair to assume he would do the same to me and then treat him like he's already committed the crime. He may yet do it but until he does it cannot be right for me to assume that he definitely do. Innocent until proven guilty. And if I don't give people chances then I am in effect, sealing my fate that I will never find someone I trust and love by creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I learned that I've tried to micromanage everything in my life but some things cannot be controlled like that. My need to control everything stems out of fear but I need to learn that no matter how hard I try, I cannot control certain things and they will hurt me anyway. And most times micromanaging, especially other people, causes more harm than good.

 I learned that it doesn't matter what he says or thinks. It is what it is and worrying about it is not gonna make him change his mind. In fact worrying about it can affect your behaviour which chances are will make things worse.

I learned that his issues are nothing to do with me. Just because he projects and he assumes the worst about me and he's wounded does not mean that I have a free pass to be the same. And if he insists on being that way despite my attempts to dissuade him then there's nothing that I can do.

I learned that I cannot live in fear of the past happening again. It will happen if it's going to happen. And if he doesn't love me back then there's nothing I can do about it. If he's gonna fall for a friend of mine, or someone else of whatever, there's nothing I can do about it. Dreading it doesn't make it stop. It's gonna hurt of course, but there's nothing I can do about it and there's no point in living in fear and creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I learned that having a hand in destroying what you love can be worse than playing the victim. I've always been the one who got hurt. And I was never the bad guy. But it's one thing to feel like you've been wronged and another to know that you had every chance to do it right and stop it but you chose not to instead.

I learned that I cannot let my fears get the better of me. I cannot live controlled by them and if I do I will find nothing along my path but misery and sadness. It is not a way to live and to love.

I learned to be grateful for the chances I get. I cannot expect the second chance to come with a reset button when I went a blew a crater in the whole thing. It is my mess and now I have to fix it. The fact that I even got a second chance to fix it is a miracle in itself and my gratitude goes to it.

I'm afraid that he will never see me the same again. That my image has been tarnished irrevocably in his eyes. That would be very unfortunate and I had no idea I cared about him that much until this happened.

He was right, he has been good to me. He has been patient and he has been kind. He has been tender and nice and accommodating. He isn't perfect and completely blameless but I have given him a lot of shit and he has taken it all and still tried to reassure me and comfort me. And I have somehow in my paranoia and insecurity been able to miss all that.

He said that I don't know the meaning of love. And he said it with disgust and contempt in his voice. So may I don't know the meaning of love. Maybe he doesn't either. But so what if I don't know the meaning of love. It doesn't matter. It's all a circular argument and means nothing and leads nowhere.

...

I miss him. And I miss the days when he couldn't get enough of me and always wanted to spend time with me and talk to me. I miss that look in his eyes when he used to look at me. That look of adoration. Those good morning texts. And now that it's gone I feel the emptiness that comes in its place. I miss the time when he used to like me, even if it was because of superficial reasons. The dream and the delusion cannot always be real but it is always quite beautiful. And it hurts now every time I am the one who texts him first and who feels like an unwanted pest when he responds like he has to instead of with the same enthusiasm he used to. It's hard keeping it together when you feel like you're hapless and have no idea what to do, which in this situation I am. I don't know how to fix this. How to get his adoring look again and I don't know if I even can. If it hasn't been written out of the books yet. I don't know what to do and I feel clueless and hurt and helpless and confused and scared and worried most of the time. It hurts when I feel like he doesn't want to meet me anymore. Doesn't want to spend time with me anymore. It feels sad and pathetic and it really hurts.

But I've got to focus on the fact that this is my mess. I screwed up so what did I expect? For this to be easy? No. And I gotta focus on the good things. The helpful, the encouraging things.

Out of Sync.

I'm confused about my place in this world. I always seem so out of sync, so out of place in my world, or the world i'm supposed to belong in anyway. I've spent years ruminating on the fact that I didn't belong when maybe what I should've been doing was acting upon it. If you don't belong there, then move to a new world. Go. Get out of there and go somewhere where you feel you might not be so out of depth. There is no point observing just how much you don't belong instead of packing up and moving  on up to where you do feel like you belong. 

There's a Fine, Fine Line Between Love, and a Waste of Your Time

I  just found out today that he said to my friend, if ever he finds someone it will be someone like her. Who knows about the bad things in the world but chooses to ignore it.

When I found out about that, I felt like I had just been stabbed through the heart and I could feel it bleeding out, slowly at first but then gathering into a stream of red. And of course the numbing sensation when I had to smile and nod and pretend that it didn't affect me as much as it did.

He lied to me all this time. Or maybe he just lives in a different world in which the rules aren't the same. And I've just been the fool trying to play along to a game I didn't understand.

At this point, I am tempted to feel sorry for myself and curse the world at how unfair this is. And who knows, I might still do that. I know my heart is definitely still bleeding and I am roiling pit of seething anger and indignance and of course, sadness. This is highly reminiscent of what happened with the previous guy and my friend. And to have it happen AGAIN??? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???!!! That's just mean man. That can't be a coincidence. I mean, I wouldn't consider this to be such a common occurance that it justifies the coincidence of it happening twice in a row, or twice ever!!! So it's starting to look like a pattern or someone is just really having some fun stomping on my heart again and again.

I knew my worries were justified. To have someone call you insane and paranoid and then have the very thing you're worried about happen right in front of you. It reeks of unfairness and also a sense of "Ha! I told you so! Why are you victimising me?!" And it hurts.

If you knew I wasn't going to be it all along then why are you still spending your time with me and showering me with affection and making me believe that I could have a chance? Why are you stringing me along like this? Why did I even get with guys who clearly prefer my friends over me??? Why do guys prefer my friends over me??? What the fuck???

Angel of Music.

I met you when I never thought that I could feel for another man anymore; not in any way that I felt for him. And you helped me get over him. For that opportunity I will be eternally grateful. Both to you and to He who gave me you.

I prayed for an angel, to help me and to hold me and to show me the kindness and tenderness that my soul so greatly craved and needed. Who would help me through the mending of my heart and give me comfort. And maybe he sent me you. 

You certainly were an angel. You did all that and more. And my prayers felt like they were answered. You held me. And you gave me comfort. You helped me to get over him and all within three weeks of knowing you. And I thank God for sending me you. 

But why then did you have to be another broken heart waiting to happen? I accepted the fact that there was a possibility I would fall for someone else and that would help me get over him. And as long as I can get over him, if I got my heart broken again, maybe it would be a worth it price. I accepted that and I still hold onto that.

But why, why is it not possible to give me a balm that would not open new wounds? Do I need to bleed from somewhere new to close an old wound? Is that what it is going to be? Because I feel like I am falling for you and I am deathly afraid of that. I am afraid of getting hurt again, for fear that I will not recover again. For fear that you are really my last chance and with every heartbreak, my heart will grow more poisoned that it will no longer be able to accept love and happiness without destroying it all. 

I know you are wounded yourself. And you have your issues and your baggage. Your doubts and your acceptance that love will never happen for you. And I am afraid that that very acceptance is what has shut the door against me to enter. Because hopeless as it seems, to my chagrin I still believe and it frustrates me that you do not anymore. Perhaps you still do, some small but of you but I do not believe that I can be the one to revive that. I do not believe that I can be special enough and good enough to convince you to give me a try. 

And there are so many things I want to say to you but I hold myself back because I am afraid that they will fall on dead ears. Because I am afraid you won't care enough to know anyway like no one else has ever cared enough to know. 

All the compliments you've ever given me were about the physical aspects of our interaction. And you said a lot of bad things of my personality. It makes me fear that you will soon tire of me l, which now seems like such an inevitable eventuality as I cannot imagine what else I can give you when you seem to dissatisfied of my personality and so aware of all my character flaws. I will not be good enough to make you consider maybe taking a chance with me, and not moving to another part of the country. 

I know you've had your fair share of crazies in your life. But I cannot help but feel that all those crazies had their glamour, that special attraction about them that kept you with them; that kept you interested enough to stick around despite the drama and the hell that the relationship had descended into. And I don't have that. Why would you even consider me then? I'm a basket case myself. And not only that, I also lack the spark that they had. 

I don't believe that you will never find someone. What you lack is far less unattractive than what I lack. I believe you have met your match. Part of me is indignant. You should be fucking grateful that you actually met someone who actually believes what you tell me and yet is able to accept that and still like you and think of you fondly. But that doesn't make it so. 

Every time you mention my character flaws, it hurts me. It hurts me because I know they're true. And it hurts me because I wish I wasn't that way but I can't change. I don't know. It hurts me because it makes me feel like I'm not good enough for you and they just feel like confirmation that you will eventually tire of me and discard me like an old toy. I don't want to be a toy or a phase of your life. I want to mean something to someone. I want to be the one. 

You told my friend that you wish I was happy and cheerful like her. And that hurt me a lot. I am sorry that I am a cheerless, gloomy sap. That I can somehow suck all the energy out of the room with my insecurities and my fear. I am sorry that I seem to have lost my zest for life and all the things that made me interesting and unique. It reminds me that I used to have that; to have all that in spades. But I lost them all along the way. And I can't seem to get them back. And I am sorry that now I am a broken, empty shell of a person who is not good enough for you to consider more than just a phase in your temporary stint in England. 

You don't think I fit into your idea of what a wholesome human character should look like. With all the pieces complementing each other and making sense next to each other. Well I'm sorry I'm not like that and that I don't conform to your belief of what a person with a strong sense of identity is like. This is who I am; this is my identity. I am a mass of inconsistencies and I don't make sense a lot. I wish I could make you see that and believe it and not turn away from me. Not that you thinking I have no identity is a good thing either. 

I don't personalise my stuff? Well I do. It's just not in a way that anyone can see. And even if I did, perhaps no one would take one look and know it's me because maybe nobody knows me that well. 

I am insulted when you think my coloured hair does not fit my personality because you think I try so hard to blend in. I try to blend in in my interactions with people but that in no way reflects on my dressing. And I wish that you would accept that if I were to explain it to you. But no you won't. Because you think you know the world and people inside out. But maybe that's why I don't fit in with most people. I'm not like them perhaps. 

And if hurt me when I told you I missed you but you told me I shouldn't. I've spent so much of my life having my affections considered a burden. I'm sick of having people feeling inconvenienced instead of honoured that I am bestowing my affections upon them. You're afraid that I will become dependant on you. Why? Because you're planning to leave and break my heart? Because you know I'm just a phase in your life when you are so much more to me? A part of me feels that you should be fucking honoured that I am even giving you the time of day. But you're not. And you saying that awoke that fear in me that to you, my affections are also a burden. I suspect that they are. You don't want to be held back in your pursuit of excitement in life. And who am I to even make you want to slow down. I'm not special enough; especially not to you to make you feel that staying would be worth your while. In the end, no matter how much you deny it I am just a phase to you. And I don't mean enough to you. 

When you held me I felt safer and more loved than I've ever felt for most of my life. I've never been hugged like that before and it felt so good. It felt so safe. And I wanted to melt into your arms and never come out of that warm feeling of being embraced with such sincerity. I wanted to stay there forever and keep feeling as loved and as safe as I did. You hold me like you really mean it and no one has ever done that before. 

But knowing how it is with me, you don't actually mean it. Not in the way that hugs like that are supposed to mean. I've never been able to understand how you can hold someone like that; someone you barely know and definitely don't care for enough beyond the satisfaction of current needs. How you can embrace someone with an embrace that says so many things but not actually be saying those things to begin with. Perhaps you are genuinely talented when it comes to hugs and you can hug anyone like that regardless of what they mean to you, even if nothing at all. And that would mean that it could be anyone but me in your arms and it wouldn't make any difference. And that makes your embrace a bit more cold to me. I understand compassion and empathy. But it makes me feel like I mean more to you than I really do. And I am tired of having to keep telling myself not to let myself fall because it's all a sham. I wish for once, I was genuinely as loved. 

You looked at me with such adoration it made my heart melt into a puddle of goo at my feet. But how can you look at me like that when I mean nothing to you? When you don't care enough to take a chance on me. I am tired of being lied to. By my head, by my heart, by everything around me. By my unsatisfied potential. By myself. Why do you keep lying to me? All of you. Why do you keep lying to me and taunting me and teasing me into hoping before letting me crash like a pile of bricks onto the ground. 

It's not that I don't love myself. I do love myself. But I acknowledge that perhaps the world does not see the same value in me that I see in myself. It's not the same thing. 

I could very well fall for you and let my heart be crushed again. That seems to be all it's good for really. I can imagine spending my life with you and being happy. I can imagine a lot of things about me being happy with you but you know, I need to stop lying to myself. I need to stop telling myself fairy tales because at the end of the day, I'm not that special one that you can feel like you want to keep and adore for the rest of your life. How can I be? When all evidence seem to point to the contrary. 

Finally!

Well, I am finally over him. He who held the shackles to my emotional freedom for so long. For what felt like forever. And I suppose in that stage of my journey so far, it almost was forever. I almost cannot believe it. To think of someone I used to love so much and who caused me so much pain and endless nights of tears, and not feel a damn thing except sadness at how the whole thing turned out. He did treat me so fucking badly. I was just a thing to him when I loved him so dearly. And I cannot believe now just how badly I allowed him to treat me. 

I lost sight of who I am. And I have not found that yet. Or maybe I didn't just lose sight of it. I changed. And I don't know what I'm supposed to be now yet. Along the way I got so used to the idea that I could not find love maybe that I somehow accepted that that was the best that I could get even though I was nothing to him. I'm not past that yet. I do not suddenly miraculously believe that anything better is in store for me, that the love I feel that I deserve is there for me for the taking. And maybe that was one of the few things that I can get. But nevertheless, now I just cannot believe I let him treat me so badly. 

I cannot help but feel that I cheated a bit. Because I met someone who made me get over him. Someone who treated me well and showed me that I could receive such tenderness from another even though it came with a shitload of qualifiers and exclusion clauses. Albeit that, I am incredibly grateful that I was given that. That I was given someone who helped me to get over him in so much less time than I otherwise would've needed. Even though now I'm probably going to have to get over this new guy, but I am at least grateful that I got over that guy. 

I don't know why love is so important to me. It is almost an obsession. The need to find that love and that companionship. That over the years it's almost evolved into a fairy tale that is unattainable but somehow some part of me still believes. It is ridiculous. But love is important to me. And now I have been so bruised by it that even though it holds such importance to me, a part of me finds it hard to believe that I can ever get it. And it regards every opportunity with such suspicion that I can very easily wreck anything that comes my way. Such is life. Maybe I am going to be the one standing in the way of my own happiness now but it was all borne out of the hurts of previous years. So what am I to do with that? 

No one is going to stick around long enough to show me that I am wrong. That I can and should believe in love again. And in myself again. Can I even? I don't want to wreck any chances that come my way. But how do I stop myself from doing that? They say it is possible to do it on your own but I cannot help but feel that I need guidance on that matter. I need a helping hand and who is going to be patient enough and care enough to stick around and help me through with that. But one thing is for sure. I am so glad I am over him. And that is something I can truly and sincerely thank God for. Thank you. 

Healing

I came here a year and a half ago. They journey, it made no difference to me. I had little interest and there was no excitement. To me it was just a step that I needed to make on a path that was already set. I was heartbroken. Resigned. Thinking back, I forgot what I was feeling then; probably a good thing. But I suspect I was feeling rather dead inside. And that why I didn't care either way. I'd lost all hope and all life in me. Then I came here and things started changing. And with it I would assume maybe I did too. Life started here and before long I was on another path, feeling other things I never expected to when I started out on that journey. And now things have come full circle. There was a lot of crap in my experience here. A lot of sadness and heartbreak and disappointment. And those feelings were so bright and they basically burned away all the feelings of the past. The resignation, the deadness, the lack of life. Because now though it is incredibly painful, I gotta say, there is definitely not a lack of life and passion now. The pain burns bright and vivid and it's life where previously it felt more like death. And I suppose I need to be thankful for that. At the very least it breathed life in me and there is now life in me. But there were also issues not addressed that day. I know I got over him. And I healed. But that was just a cover. Now things have come to a head and I believe that maybe it's because back then I may have healed, but I may not have done it correctly. I was in shambles and it got better but I didn't get out of it in one piece. Maybe that's why I'm here now. To set right old wrongs. To reset whatever went wrong the first time round. Not so easy considering those mistakes have had time to set. And obviously breaking an old injury to reset it so it would heal right would hurt very God damned much. I don't know what to do. How to reset those old wounds and heal right this time. I don't know how to go about it and most days I feel like I'm surrounded by confusion and I don't know what I'm doing if I'm doing anything at all. But maybe that's why this is happening. My heart needs to set right. It can't keep going, collecting more and more improperly set injuries as it goes along. That gig would be up pretty quick. I'm hoping that this is the bigger purpose; or that there is a bigger purpose. That there is a greater good and a greater happiness and I am heading towards it. I need my faith to get through this. Right now it is literally the only thing holding me together. And my belief is the only thing keeping me up and still going. I need to believe that there is a purpose and that guidance is always with me.

I Wish.

I'm not even close to being a priority, I'm at the bottom of his list. If I'm even in it at all. Most likely I'm not. It hurts that he doesn't want to spend time with me the way I want to with him. It hurts that he doesn't miss me at all when all I can do is miss him every day in and day out. It hurts that he once looked at another in the same way I wish he'd look at me. In the way I look at him. I wish I make him happy, the way he does me. So tonight I wish that he was here holding me and that he will love me too. A futile wish perhaps. But we all have that one thing we hope for. And just because it can't come true, doesn't mean that I am wrong for wanting it. 

Growing Up.

I can't believe I'm 25 now. Where did all the years go? It all seemed like yesterday when I was just an early teen. A child. And yet, it also seemed like forever since then. You never realise it. It just creeps up on you, growing up. You just go day by day and then year by year. Through high school then college then university and suddenly when you blink and wake up, you realise it's been 7 years and you're an adult now. You're not approaching adulthood, or entering it or on the brink of it. You're there. And sometimes it still never really feels like you're there. You'd think it was a very different place. Where you'd feel different and be different. Almost like a different person. So how can you be an adult? When you still feel like... You? But I guess that's what childhood does to the image of adulthood. It's seen through un-understanding eyes and because of the vast difference that you see between their world and yours, you never really see that it's always gonna be you; going through the different stages in life. 

I can't believe I'm 25. I'm an adult now. I'm there. And it doesn't feel like it, and maybe it never will. But I'm there. And I can't believe it. I've spent the last few years of my life getting my heart broken and getting sad and upset and depressed and devastated and focusing on my misery and heartbreak every single day. I never noticed the days creeping by but now I do notice, I've spent the days of the last few years of my life getting my heart broken and licking my wounds and trying to get back up and then getting it broken again and then back to feeling sorry for myself and nursing my broken heart. I don't know why this has been so colourful. I still don't know why. But the last few years have been a steep, steep learning curve for me. I've learned from one experience after another, and getting hurt again and again, in different ways and it's changed the way I see the world and people almost completely. And maybe that means it's changed me as well. I don't know why I had to spend the last few years learning and getting my heart broken, and I wonder sometimes. Is there a larger purpose to it all. But I don't know. All I know is that love has brought me and put me in places that I never thought I was capable of going. Doing things I never thought I'd do for another person. Even at the expense of my own sanity. And I don't know why love has had to be so cruel to me, breaking my heart again and again so many times. Or maybe it hasn't been that many times. It's just that this time hurts so much that it feels like a thousand different heartbreaks. I don't know what changed. Is it me? Is it circumstance? But for some reason I'm unable to let go of this one the way I could let go of all the others before me. I keep on getting this irrational feeling that this is the one. It's irrational and it's persistent and quite frankly, fucking baffling. It doesn't make sense. Either it's a sign or it's the delusions of an obsessed mind but I'm certainly afraid as hell that it's the latter. Like I need any help making things worse for myself. I need to just stop kidding myself. 

I told a friend today. And it was such a relief. It felt so good to just let it out. Now next step is to tell him. And I'm so afraid... I'm so afraid that telling him means I am ending everything. And that he will walk away from me and never look back. Things are already bad enough now between us and it's probably not fixable no matter how much I wish I could turn back time and undo it. And I'm afraid that I'm gonna lose him for good if and when I tell him. I know I must tell him. Something inside me compels me to do it. It feels like the right thing to do regardless of what my reasons are; divine intervention or obsession leading to self persuasion. But I am so afraid that that means I will lose him for good. That he will turn around, walk away and never look back. And I'm dreading it. I feel like chickening out from the decision every time. I don't want to lose him. I love him so much. And every single optimistic solution or way forward that I figure out for myself gets lost by the wayside after a day or two because I'm too weak and too scared to hold on to them with enough belief and conviction to make them continue. I'm too scared of being wrong and then having my hopes dashed again. I don't know what to do. I'm a mess. I'm such a confused mess right now. But I know one thing. I have to do it. It's time. It doesn't matter how much I'm scared of doing it and the results that it can entail; I have to do it. 

We All Have Our Own Sorrows.

We all have our own sorrows. I look to my left and to my right, and I am surrounded by people who have their own sorrows. The girl on my left, she too has had bad luck in love and had her heart broken by someone who wasn't worthy of it to begin with. And there are people who are upset because of the bad grades they maybe received today. Because of the fear of the prospect of receiving bad grades. Because they perceive themselves to be disliked by others. Because they were treated disrespectfully. Because they are embroiled in a course that breaks down your walls of confidence and makes you feel like shit. We all have our own sorrows. The story is never really only knee deep. And we cannot hope to understand most of what others may be going through. We are after all only huma. We are flawed and short-sighted in our vision; and selfish, and uncaring and we only have the capacity to deal with what lies within our world and nothing else outside of it. But I suppose this is how it is meant to be. This is biology. And we who have gained sentience, we realise this and we question it and we think long and hard about it but we can never change it.

It has been a subject of great dilemma for me. There came a suddenly rush of people with sorrows the moment when I decided to maybe put aside my own and try to forget and rid myself of negativity. An ambitious pursuit sure, but it was about time. Then the rush came and I was a but overwhelmed. Naturally I was annoyed. Part of me knew that all sorrows are legitimate because they are real to the person feeling it regardless of how we think of it. It would be arrogant of anyone to claim otherwise. Reality is our perception of it. But it was difficult to bear that in mind when suddenly people were coming along with what felt like unmeritorious claims to my all too human heart or less meritorious claims. I was struggling, feeling like I was pulling a load with every effort of mine to shrug off negativity but there were people left and right, obsessed and depressed and leaning on me for smaller issues than my own. A primal part of me grit its teeth in frustration and impatience. I wanted to shrug them off, tired of dealing with my own problems alone as well as theirs. But I felt guilty. Guilty and ashamed of my own selfishness. We all hope to have someone to lean on when times of trouble come a-calling. And naturally we wouldn't lean on those we do not trust. And let's face it, no one finds it fun to be the wall that someone constantly bounces their problems off of, especially the same problems all the damn time. I know what it is like to have been rebuked by someone who I trusted but turned out couldn't care less about me and I do not want to inflict that pain upon anybody. But I was tired, and I was feeling somewhat at the edge of my capacity. And I felt guilty for my less than noble thoughts. There is a saying I read somewhere that said, "Your greatest test is when you are able to bless someone else while you are going through your own storm." So does that mean I have failed the test? Have I passed?

We all have our own sorrows. I love him so much. But I can't take this anymore. I must let go. The very thought of it brings tears to my eyes and I hurt so much I can practically feel my heart slowly pulling apart down the centre. I can practically hear the bleeding crack while it breaks all over again. Why does he treat me like this? What have I done to deserve this. Questions no doubt every woman in a bad arrnagement with someone they love have no doubt asked endlessly to no avail. I can't take this anymore. I must let go.

Hurt.

I don't know where I am in this limbo now. But I can't exist like this forever. I have not decided what to do. Whether to tell him or to not; whether to leave or stay. It's true my heart aches at the very thought of leaving him. But it aches even more when he turns on me and throws all these hurtful words at me. When he ignores me and makes it obvious I don't matter to him. When I know he's talking to another girl, that I've been replaced in his affections, if there were any affections to begin with. I'm tired of fighting for my man's attention like a group of concubines. Always trying to figure out what to do to please him so I can win his favour. It's disgusting and I don't want to do that but somehow, I have inadvertently subjected myself to that. I'm afraid of his texts. Because I'm afraid of what he'll reply and what he'll say. I'm afraid that the next thing he says will score another deep rend in my already broken heart. How much more beating can my heart be expected to take? I think about all my experiences with love and I realise that this world is far more complicated than I expected. Or perhaps it is I who make it complicated? 

It's like I'm an addict. But instead of drugs or alcohol, my addiction is to misery and pain. I feel a sort of rush every time a small amount of pain or sadness pangs in my heart. But too much and I feel sick, and heavy and laden and overwhelmed. And yet somehow once you've had that initial pang, you can't seem to stop going for more and more. Just like a teenager on a night out binge drink. And then I overdose and I feel like I'm a worthless failure and all the despair and misery I've indulged in destroys me bit by bit on the inside. I feel like I'm trying to come up from under an addiction these days. With the positiveness I'm trying to enforce in my life and making sure I don't wallow anymore. It's like trying to break free from an addiction. It's a constant effort to keep reminding yourself. It's constant willpower trying to drag yourself up from under whatever rut your habits have allowed you to instinctively fall into or preventing yourself from falling into one. Part of me feels like letting go and letting the abyss swallow me whole but I know that if I were to do that it would be to my own demise and I would spend more time running around in endless circles feeling sorry for myself and going nowhere.  

I love him but I don't know what to do anymore. He hurts me more than I expected he could. Sometimes I think of all the sweet things he used to do, the very things that made me fall deeper and deeper in love with him, and I feel the pang. And I have to remind myself that he didn't do those things because he ever cared for me. It was just an illusion I wanted to believe. None of it meant a single thing neither should they have ever meant a single thing to me. I want to fall into his arms in sweet blissful surrender. I want to breathe in the scent of his neck and feel his warmth, his body wrapped around mine and just lie there in such bliss feeling like the luckiest girl in the world that the man I love, he loves me. But it is not to be. I want to be able to confide in him and have him give me comfort for he is the only one who can. Who can make things right for me and make me feel like everything is going to turn out right because I have his love and I am truly fulfilled. But he doesn't want to hear a single word I say. He doesn't even want to talk to me anymore. And if it weren't for the fact that I am a particularly versatile toy for him, he would want to have nothing to do with me. And one day when he finds another versatile toy, I will be replaced and redundant for good for I have no value to him. Worse, if he finds love in someone else... I will just fade away into oblivion as another one of his numerous indiscretions enacted in the throes of his confusion and his search and escapism. I would become just another bottle of beer in an alcoholic's long trip of alcoholism. One of many items of poison he chose to indulge in and then forgotten. The thought of it hurts my heart like no other. But... What can I do? 

They say that the heart must accept what the mind already knows but how can I? I'm trying my very best but my mind is as convoluted as my heart has successfully poisoned it to its seductions. I am confused and overwhelmed and I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. Am I doing the right thing in denying my pain to be felt? Is it healthy considering that my pain is a chronic unhealthy habit, and addiction or am I just suppressing it instead of curing it? I wanted to talk to him, to ask him for advice, but a part of me stops myself from doing it because life was better when I felt that I'd given up on him somewhat. Not texting him, not replying to his texts, not wishing to contact him. For a little while maybe not needing his presence in my life if only because my heart feels so hurt that it can't bear more hurt. And any interaction with him especially positive interaction with him breaks the spells and flings me back into the throes of my hopeless adoration of him. And so I am conflicted. What do I do? On the one hand confide in him and risk the ever hurtful remarks and replies. On the other hand, keep it to myself and keep thinking about it all day every day wondering if maybe perhaps I should do it, or not. 

A large part of me is angry and have been angry for some time now. Is loving him a sin? Why am I punished so for loving him and heaving under a mound of shame and guilt for my feelings for him? Why is it so wrong? Is it so wrong?? And I had i nervous breakdown. Because of my love for him, because of the hormones maybe, I had a nervous breakdown. And no one has suffered more for it than me. So what gives him the right to even FEEL like he has the right to punish me for, what wrong? No wrong that I did! I didn't hurt him he was virtually unaffected. Is he mad that I ruined his favourite toy by besmirching her image and showing to him that I am human with very real feelings after all? But that's not reasonable. And that's not a reasonable thing to blame me for. And yet I am being punished. For daring to indulge in my feelings, for being down, for not being able to control my expressions of emotions around him for a short while. For my small short failure, everything I held dear about our relationship is gone for good. It doesn't seem fair. It isn't fair. Whatever his reasons are, I am being punished because now he can no longer see me the same way and have the same affections for me. Why? Because I dared to be human and I dared to be weak. Or he's angry at me. Why? Because I dared to be human and I dared to be weak and I dared to inconvenience him with it. If he only knew how much hurt I've suffered just for him, by him and because of him alone. If he knew how much he's hurt me. 

Faith.

I'm trying my best to keep up this newfound optimism, for want of a better word. I have realised that there is no point dallying with the worse fictional things that I tell myself every day and keeping myself down under a cloud of misery all the time. Why do that. It's not getting me anywhere. It's definitely not improving my quality of life neither does it guarantee that failure will not happen or if it does that it will not affect me. Keeping myself in a cloud of grey has been the most pointless thing I have done in my entire life and I am trying to break free from that habit. 

But whenever he talks to me, and with that cutting indifference that attempts with every ounce of vindictiveness within him to hurt me as much as possible, he batters on the very door of my defences. With that malice and that venom he reserves only for those he subconsciously feels are trying to steal from him the very things he values most in his self development, he batters at the very gates defending my self development. And I find myself asking again in a flurry of confusion that I try to dissipate; what is the point of trying so hard for someone just like him who clearly doesn't care about me and who probably cannot care about me his whole life. And the questions they lead to other questions and I have to slam the lid on that destructive box shut before it has the ability to do too much damage. 

I have never loved someone as much as I loved him. Hopelessly, and without reason and so pointlessly. Perhaps it was because I knew not how to love before this or what love is before this. It could be that I have changed and the way I deal with love now is also different. I don't know the reason. But I have known in my heart of hearts that for some unknown and unfathomable reason, that even as I try to make my recovery from the subduing drug of my own depressive tendencies, that I still do love him. I can't seem to shake it although there is no reason on earth why I should love him. And I have entertained thoughts on trying. And trying again. Until... Until God knows when. Persistence is rewarded in some cases. But the age old question is, when do we know that it is the right time to give up and walk away? I can think of multiple highly heartbreaking scenarios where one would be forced and even compelled to walk away. But we shall not go there. As I have established irrevocably that I do love him, and that my heart wants what it wants; I have entertained the thought of just keeping on at it. At a slower more steady and measured pace. With more measured or even no expectations. Just keep trying for my own sake. But I have yet to decide on a definitive course of action. I suppose I'll just keep doing what I do. 

He will not make things easy for me and I will keep wondering and having to break the flurry up, on why the fuck I'm still doing that. And the answer would lurk in the very deepest part of my heart it is that because I still love him. This struggle will continue, but I must be above it. We all make decisions and we make decisions to make sacrifices in this life. And since my heart has since decided, why question and second guess my decision. 

You Said You Cared About Me

You said that you cared about me. Why then were you so ready to abandon me? I guess you cared for yourself even more. But then again who wouldn't I guess. 

Going Back.

There are a lot of things that I find myself wanting to say to you. But somehow after a while all these words, they fall out of my mouth and into the air and vanish, never having made it into any missive to you. I don't know if this is a good thing. Maybe it is, I suspect it might be. But it's strange. I've never found myself lacking the will to say something to you before. Before, every moment and word exchanged with you was a joy for me. I waited with bated breath for your reply or in happy anticipation knowing that you will and I will be even happier. But now, maybe not anymore. Those words they fall silent and they disappear in the wind. And I no longer want as much to say these things to you. Maybe it's right. We can't go back. There is no way to stay in one place stagnant forever and the time has come to move. I don't want to go back. I want to move forward. 

Why Do I Still Believe?

Lord have mercy... Deliver me from this bondage of my emotions that I can find happiness again be it not in his arms, be it not within his love. 

Why do I still believe that it can happen?

Hallelujah...

I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music do you... Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah... 

"Getting hurt in this world is inevitable, but we do get to choose who we allow to hurt us." Why do I choose to keep letting him hurt me? Every single thing he does, every single word he says hurts me so much. He doesn't know just how much everything he does hurts me so deeply and he wouldn't care. He's so selfish, he doesn't care. I've tried everything to make things go back to the way they were but nothing is working. I'm so afraid of everything he'll say; I'm so afraid that he will get angry, so afraid that he won't reply, that I can't do anything much. He's the sun and the stars to me but I am nothing to him. And I live in fear of him and I get hurt so deeply, every time; with every reply, every non reply. Nothing he does doesn't hurt me anymore. Now everything does. He used to make me happy. Now all he does is make me cry. And break my heart with every single step of the way. 

Freedom, Beauty, Truth and Love.

I am a true romantic at heart. But I've been hurt too deeply for my romanticism to show itself untarnished. It is like a light that must shine through the darkened scars on my heart. I am a romantic. Watching Moulin Rouge! moves me to tears. But my heart is hardened and I am afraid. Fantasy is one thing. But things are hardly ever the same in real life. And love is hardly ever so pure and so simple and so beautiful. I truly believe in the ideals of freedom, beauty, truth and most of all love. Just like Christian. But those ideals don't translate the same in real life and when brought over, they just get complicated. They get muddled by the intricacies and the complexities and they disappear in the practicality of real life. Love is hardly exciting. It must be practical. It is hardly ever reckless abandon. It is now a pastime or a means to an end. We don't view love as sacred anymore. We don't live and love like love is sacred anymore. But I am a romantic at heart and I believe in true love. Even if it takes a whole lot more for the light to shine through the scars on my heart. 

Confession.

I'm in love with you. You've never given me anything and yet I've fallen in love with you. I don't need your sympathy, I don't need your pity. And I know you don't love me back but there was a time when I couldn't imagine life without you. Life without you wouldn't be worth living and even thinking about it filled me with fear and dread. You were everything to me. There is nothing special about Newcastle. You made this city beautiful for me. Because this city is where I met you and this city is where you are and all I ever wanted was to be with you forever. I loved you that much. 

But sometimes I'm scared for you. I don't know what you're doing and what your ambitions would lead to. I don't know if it's safe and I don't know if it's healthy or if it's recommended. I'm afraid that you will go somewhere that I cannot follow and you will retreat into a place where you will be alone forever. And you will be happy. But I will lose you forever. Not that I ever had you. I don't know if you're truly happy. But a part of me quietly feels that you are still searching; always searching for something. And you wish to go higher and higher, as far up as possible and as far away from the possibility that the feelings and insecurities that used to hurt you before can hurt you again. But that feels like running. I may be wrong but in my mind, what you seem to be looking for to me is a peace and contentment where you don't need to run, you don't need to climb higher; where you can just be and be happy and content. And you don't seem to have found it yet. You feel that you can find it maybe in climbing higher and exploring new avenues of feeling good but maybe you're not looking in the right ways or in the right places. I want you to find what you're looking for, but I don't think it's where you think it is. I'm afraid that you won't find it because you're looking in the wrong place, and I'm also afraid that in looking there you will go further than I can follow and you will be lost in your new direction even though it isn't what you wanted in the first place. But maybe I'm just scared of losing you. 

Moulin Rouge!

I have always been a child with a particularly fragile heart. Maybe that is why I have always instinctively guarded it with a jealous zeal. Always making sure that I would never get hurt almost like an overprotective father who tries his best to shield his daughter. But also like the father who tries to shield his daughter, in the end she rebels and ends up making the very same mistakes he tried to prevent her from making. Some lessons cannot be learned any other way. 

I do not want to be accused of over romanticising certain things but in a way I now know and feel things in a way I never was able to before. What did I understand of love before this? I knew it was a concept. Nothing more! It was nothing; nothing compared to the knowledge now and the feelings they bring with them. It is like seeing a watercolour painting and then going to the scene and taking in the picturesque view yourself. There is so much difference. What did I feel before this when I saw examples and depictions of love? Nothing! I saw nothing! And I felt nothing. But now, I understand it in a way that I could not have a few years ago. And with the understanding comes the appreciation. And with that comes the tears when you watch a sad love movie. It feels so real now. When it used to feel like just a film. 

I've always been of the sappy sort. I've always been a hopeless romantic and a true believer in love. I've longed for it with every fibre of my being long before I even knew I did. And being like the overprotective father, I did my best to hide it. But there's no point in hiding it now is there. What is the point of further concealing who you are to the eyes of the world. I'd sooner just show my true self and be free. I do not want to overthink and overlook into these matters. But now with my newfound sensitivity to matters such as these, I wonder if he was here to teach me something. No doubt I have learned a lot from my time with him. All of them ground shattering, all of them painful. But a lot nonetheless. I can appreciate now all the lessons I learned from him whether advertently or inadvertently. He never meant to teach me anything. Indeed he couldn't care less about what is going on. This exists in my world you see, not in his. But of course learned from it I did. I wonder sometimes at what I have become. The overwhelming burgeoning of emotions that spill over and were never there before. It's like I've opened a whole new door to my existence and I didn't even know it was locked to begin with. Love can do many things to you. And the one thing it will most definitely do, is to make your heart bleed. Tears flowed mighty freely when I watched the Moulin Rouge. And it is all well and good and all too easy to imagine yourself in the place of Satine and Christian. We are all after all, the protagonists in our own stories. But a thought struck me as I was watching the movie and it did not please me but what if instead of them, I was in actuality the Duke? I could see many similarities in my own story to the Duke. How he insists on making something happen even when it's hopeless and he tries everything; everything to attain someone who never loved him and would never love him. How he goes about his efforts with a dogged determination like he was sure that they would work to make her love him but in the end we do see that it is all so futile. But he didn't think so. He genuinely thought that he could make it happen. And that resounds uncomfortably true with my own situation doesn't it. There is no point in trying and I should have given up and walked away a long time ago. But I kept on trying. To what avail? None whatsoever. And it is time that I realised that instead of sinking deeper and deeper into my desperate efforts like the Duke did and getting enmeshed in somebody else's love story. Yes it is somebody else's love story. And it doesn't matter that it is breaking my heart into a million different pieces. I am just in the way. 

Portrait of a Woman

She was fair, with a milk white marble complexion and dark hair framed her face. Her almond shaped eyes were small, but dark and piercing and she had the most intense stare he remembered encountering in a long time. There was no joy in her expression. It was like something carved in stone; immobile, cold and staring. He felt unease immediately around her. There was no commonality, no warmth. Just a sort of disconnect which most people would automatically shy away from even without understanding why. She was not so much remarkable as she was out of place so he looked away and concentrated on other more interesting matters while she faded into the background. He saw her other times that night, flitting through the room, one moment here, another there. And it always struck him as odd, seeing her slouching there talking to someone. She didn't seem the type to smile or to laugh and yet she did all those things. It felt incongruous to a fault. And once again he turned away and put her out of his mind. He would much rather focus on the pretty girl making waves and dazzling in the centre of the room; with her chandelier laugh and her bright animation. Now that was a woman he could be interested in. So full of life, so full of energy; not stiff and carved in stone. No, she would be relegated to the darkest corners of his mind and soon forgotten just like the rest of the inconsequential things he encountered. Tonight was a night for fun and merry-making and that warm blooded woman with the smile, he thought as he made his way over to her and further and further away from the other woman. 

She was awkward and fumblingly clumsy in her social skills. Such a loud laugh, and such boisterousness, he remarked as he watched her laugh at a joke. Her eyes crinkled into tiny slits as she guffawed and hollered in entertainment. It was not that she was inept in any way, but he found her clumsy attempts uncomfortable and as such he would much rather mingle with those whom he could speak more freely. There was just something remarkable strange although subtle about her comments and the timing with which she makes them. Like a hit and miss although mainly missing. She sat still in a silence sometimes like she had absolutely no interest in the conversation but then when she chipped in, there was a jarring miss every time. He felt slightly sorry for her if he thought about it too much. But as for itself, it was inconsequential and he did not think about it too much. He did not think about it very much at all. It was much easier to lose himself in the sparkling conversation going on than to wonder too much about the odd girl who seemed somewhat out of place. Leave it to someone else. Someone else would talk to her he was sure. But it need not be him. There were much more interesting things to do. 

She was kind, and she was helpful, he thought absently as she returned with what he needed and deftly tended to his condition. He sipped the hot cocoa slowly, minding the heat while somewhere in his peripheral vision he saw her moving beside him, not sure what she was doing. Already her kindness was slipping from his mind. Of course it would go without saying would it not. He was grateful. She asked him how he was feeling. Good he said, and his mind continued to wander; caught up in other things, things he would not remember if asked about; just drifting. Beside him he vaguely felt her press a cushion onto his lap while she tried to make him comfortable. She had always been nice and she had always been kind. She was always helpful when she could be and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that. And if someone were to ask he would definitely say so. But since no one is asking, really it's of no consequence isn't it. His thoughts were already quickly drifting towards other things, his mind on other people; what they did, what antics they got up to and he chuckled inwardly. They were such fun people, such funny people. They were an absolute joy to be around. Of course it didn't matter that they weren't here now, it was hardly the place and time to expect them to be, he casually thought as he accepted the biscuits she lay before him. And of course her too, she was nice, he contemplated vaguely before drifting off again into thoughts of their delightful company and the delightful things they could get up to the next time around. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her kindness, no. It's just that there's nothing much to think about her kindness is there as his mind wandered to the girl he met the other day. She had helped him pick up a book. How so very kind of her. 

I Really Wish I Weren't So in Love

Today is three days into my journey. I'm starting to see now that staying in this would continue to cause me a world of hurt and yet, I am not ready to give him up. Such is the strength of my love for him. But I am starting to see that he cares not about me. And part of me is starting to wonder if I should just start trying to leave this behind. I am afraid. Afraid of navigating this world without him. He is not only the man I love, he is also something I cling on to, and to me he symbolises hope; a hope that the childlike part of me wishes to believe in. That true love, or what seems like it will prevail in the end. That love, exists for me and will prevail. He is love to me. A part of me is afraid that giving him up is me giving up my last chance for love because somewhere inside I believe that I can do it no more. I can fall for no more men and have my heart broken all over again. And if this isn't going to turn out then there will be no more after this. And another part of me wants there to be no more after this because I love him and I want no other. So in a lot of ways, this feels like my shot at love and so I have needed with a desperation for this to work out. 

But every single time I remember what he said to me, it stings and I feel that sharp pain inside my chest. Every single time I remember what he wrote to me, it pains me and I want to turn away but I can't seem to. And every single time I remember what happened, it breaks my heart and turns my mind inside out. I have questioned the fairness of what happened for days and weeks and months. I have spent much tears crying over the questionable fairness of it. Because it hurt me to the core. It shaped and moulded my character in a way that I never wanted it to be and yet I still can't seem to get over my burning love for him. Even through all that anger and hurt.  It was to me, like a message from the world confirming every single fear that seemed to be lurking at the back of my mind about my worth to be loved. And if I wasn't questioning it then, it made me question it now. I didn't understand how it could be so that it could have gone so horribly wrong. How within a single day and night, my heart was broken many times over and trampled by a herd of horses. And how should it be fair?

Every single time I think about it, it winds me. It knocks me off balance and it turns my world and my logic and my reason and my mind inside out. It turns my faith inside out. And it turns my hope away. Far far away and despair comes in to take its place. They say that there are many sorrows in this world, and love is one of them. I do not want to feel guilty for feeling miserable over my broken heart. I do not want to feel like I am being ungrateful. I am extremely grateful but my broken heart is also very real. I want to spend my days curled up and crying over my broken heart. I want to spend hours without needing to worry about responsibilities, crying over him. I want to be free to express and feel my misery without having to lug it all around with me in a heavy sack over my back and having to explain and justify it away to everyone and to myself. I love him, he doesn't love me and now I am fucking sad about it! So what! I am nowhere near over him and I am still very dearly in love him. I really wish I weren't. 

The Prayer.

Father in Heaven, if it is the time for me to let go of him and if I absolutely must then give me the courage and the strength to get through what must happen. Lord, I am not ready to let him go, and I don't know if I ever will be. I don't know if these are the words of a girl with a lack of courage to be alone and to let go of another love; all I know is that I love him Father and I am not ready to let him go. Even though all he's done and the words he has said ring through my ears and play in my mind, and with every replay they cut a deep gash in my already bleeding heart, I love him and I am not ready to let him go. A part of me, the childlike part keeps thinking that a love such as this must surely prevail. How can it not? It is unthinkable! But I am not looking at the world as it is. And another part of me knows that it is not true. Why must I fall in love with someone such as he? Why couldn't I just not, and spare myself such agony. Why must I make this step? I don't understand Father in Heaven and I wish you would just give me the answers because my poor heart cannot wonder anymore. It's broken beyond repair and all that I thought I believed in in love is slipping away through my fingers. I cry now for love. So if I must let him go, something I believe I may never be able to do, then give me the courage and give me the strength Lord, for I cannot do it alone. 

He doesn't love me. Why doesn't he love me? Why can't he love me? 

When I could demand affection and not be ashamed by it. 

Conversations I Can Only Have With Myself.

"The mania is gone I guess and now all that's left is a deep, deep sadness." 

She reached out for my hand and hugged me close to her freshly floral scented body. The perfume comforted me somehow, like a touch of realism reminding me that she is there for me now. The hug was warm and comforting and I wept silent tears into her shoulders. 

We both know there was nothing we could do. And the best thing to do would be to just ride it out. When did this get so hard? 

Getting Better Every Day.

Tonight it's just me and my broken heart,

And the endless preview of more nights to come

In which I will languish ever in my broken heart, 

Just like tonight. 

It's always escaped my reason why I cannot ever learn, 

And make better decisions. 

Because these decisions make these endless nights and these endless nights, 

Make even more bad decisions. 

Sad songs can only say so much, 

And they flitteringly touch at the heart and they tell a story

Maybe even your story.

But they can never speak as loud as the pain inside. 

And that's when we languish, and ever disappear into the sadness inside. 

A deep dark place where hope goes to be ridiculed, 

And the best of us get beaten by our own careless woes. 

Demons.

Don't get too close, it's dark inside, it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide. 

It's occurred to me to wonder on occasion where we are and how we got here. I've never looked at myself from the outside before like I'm surveying a project and now that I do, I'm made to wonder. I am the product of my experiences, some good and some bad. I am who I've been conditioned to be in my years of growing up and now that I take a step back and try to look at the product as if I weren't living it, the results are startling. 

I don't know how I got this way. It's a surreal feeling, taking a look at yourself like you're looking at a project. I don't know what I've become and why. I've always been the combination of my experiences and for a long time, it's always been. But now I take a step back and I realise. I am selfish. And I am weak, and vulnerable, and afraid of that vulnerability. I've always been without really knowing why. Just forever in fear that care would hurt me and somehow unable to step back from it and not let it affect me. I've been denying myself who I really am all these years and the product of that is someone who is weak and vulnerable but is unable to show it freely and own it. But I am unable to disown it either and so I am an alcoholic on a binge. When it gets too much inside I go crazy a little bit and just break down. The feelings come pouring without stop and I harass the people I trust and care about and expect them to somehow fix this problem I have inside of me. And I place this burden on them and this expectation and even though I know it's wrong and I shouldn't be doing it but in the mad haze, I've never been able to stop. 

I marvel at how I got this way. I am a fascinating creature, a product of both denial and fear bourne from no valid source whatsoever. It's like I've bred insecurity and groomed myself all these years into becoming this neurotic personality always hiding and trying to conceal but never really succeeding completely. It is a feeling both indescribable and strange, looking at you from a different perspective and then coming to wonder at how things got this way. 

I can't say that I am pleased at what I see in myself. The levels of insecurity and fragility, bourne out of heartbreak and distrust. I was never a solid structure, I was always a house of cards. And I have learned over the years that I cannot judge because every time I did, I learned that I too am vulnerable to all those vices that come to you at your weakest. 

I've made decisions I never thought I ever would. I've condemned things with words only to swallow those words back up because I find myself doing the exact same thing. Maybe my approach was never right all along and this is learning journey to discover just what is. 

I don't know if I have the answers of the solutions but I need to try what I think is best right now. I need to shed those insecurities somehow and part of that process is maybe being comfortable enough to be who I am. But where do I start and HOW do I start? I don't know how to start acting different. How to just be vulnerable and show it and not to be so ashamed of it. I don't know how to just change like that and start being a completely different person. How do you just click your fingers just like that and turn everything around? 

I've learned that caring is a perilous journey and it will not always end to your benefit. There is no honour in caring but neither is there honour in not. There is no victory nor loss in this journey it just is. A perilous, rocky road filled with twists and turns and drops and rises that we must all take in our humanity. It just is what it is and the journey is what we make it out to be. Some scale the rises and take the drops as we go along, always accepting that it is part of being human and never second guessing it. Some sit back and ponder it long and hard and I guess I am the second part of this story. I think about it and I dissect it and I analyse it and try to find a way to come out of it victorious. But there is no victory and there is no loss. It is just a journey that we all take. 

Confessions.

I saw him, dancing about 11 months ago at the House of Smith. He was alone, and standing in front of the glass windows to the smoking area and just dancing. And he was good. My friends and I stood there and watched for a while and we wondered why he was alone. I was meant to find a one night stand that night, so I was meant to find a guy, take him home, shag him and never meet him again. But that wasn't my game; that was never my game and I was as disinterested in every man in the club as I had always been. So when my friends asked me if I had found one, I said him. I only wanted him. He was the only guy that piqued my interest somewhat the entire night and so I thought he would be as good as any. 

I finally got the guts to go talk to him the third time we ran into him that night and so I followed him out into the smoking area and struck up a conversation. He was nice, and he was friendly and I enjoyed that conversation more than I really expected to. I considered him a possibility but I stopped when I found out that he was a nurse. It just made a buzzer in my head go "eeek!" and I lost interest. So I declined his offer to send me home that night and after a halfhearted inquiry into whether he had social media which turned up the fact that he didn't, we went our separate ways and I never expected to see him again. My friends asked me why I didn't ask for his number and I told them that it was because I didn't want it. I was in a very good place, and I didn't want to have anything to do with men. 

Two weeks later we went back to the same club and this time, I had a jilted crush to get over. It was not looking to be a very good night in particular; we were tired out and resting in a corner by 2 am as we always do. And that's when I saw a rather unusual looking person sitting alone not 5 feet from us. But it was not until he got up and started dancing that I recognized him instantly. We started talking again and dancing slightly and when he came onto me I did not expect it. It was strange and rather unusual and I didn't know what to do. But I decided in the spirit of forgetting my old crush, why not just sleep with this guy. He seemed nice, he was friendly and definitely had way better conversations than any of the other drunken buffoons in the club. So I took him home with me. He was surprisingly nice and he talked to me for an hour after. Something I did not expect from a one night stand. But he left in the morning and I did not get any method of contacting him again. 

I don't know exactly when I started gaining interest in him. The shag was good and I liked it. But I didn't have any means of contacting him and so we went back to the same club the next week hoping to run into him there again. And lo and behold! Somehow we did. He made it clear from the first instant that he wasn't interested in a relationship and that we could be fuck buddies. And I said yes. It was silly of me but I did something that I'd never done before then. Entering into a casual sex agreement. It was against everything I used to believe in and everything I was used to doing and o marvel at the fact that I took that leap. 

Somewhere along the lines, I fell in love with him. I didn't realise that I had fallen in love with him. I knew that I liked him, and I knew I definitely at least wanted to be friends. But I don't know when, I fell in love with him. Or I realised I was in love with him. In retrospect, maybe I did fall in love with him the first time I met him. I fell in love with an amiable, companionable goof that loved to dance and was good at it. A person that I have not seen since then. But I am still in love with him and the deed is done. 

When he told me he fell for my friend after I'd introduced them, it broke my heart like nothing else. I could hear it shattering amidst my streaming tears. And when he told my other friend, in a drunken stupor and in an effort to get into her pants, that he was bored of me; that hurt me very deeply as well. And when he accused me of playing the victim and turning them against him, it bled from the repeated blows. Thus began the worst week I had in a long time. And I sat and watched as he admired her and showered interest upon her. Swooned at her words and hung onto every word. And I sat and watched as well when he left the club upset, on the last night of their trip here because he couldn't have her. And I consoled him and all the while wept silently inside in my sore, shattered heart. That memory has scarred me in a way I didn't expect it to. My self esteem was shattered. My heart was broken. And all I wanted was to just be able to walk away from it all and not be affected by the implications of that incident which kept haunting me and pushing my sense of self worth to the ground. But I still loved him dearly. And despite all of that, all I wanted was not to lose him. And so I stayed. Despite my shattered heart and my broken dreams, I stayed with him because I didn't want to lose him. 

I'd never completely gotten over it and it affected me so much, in more ways than I thought it would. And I was naive. I had hoped that if I stayed around long enough then maybe someday, eventually  he will fall in love with me too. I never told anyone about anything because I was too ashamed. I fell in love with him when I wasn't supposed to. I entered into this when an inkling in my heart knew that I wanted to be more than just fuck buddies. I knew but I ignored it. And I was so ashamed of being another one of an all too common statistic. So I told no one. It was the biggest mistake I had ever made and part of me regrets it dearly. But another part of me knew. I had always been a hopeless romantic, and if there was ever an illusion of a chance even, I would take it regardless of the risks. I never thought that there would ever come a day when I would be ashamed because of my love for someone. And all the time I fell deeper and deeper in love with him. We texted every day and he started coming over slightly more frequently than he used to. And I fell deeper in love. One day I realised that he was being nicer to me these days than he had ever been to me and I saw hope. Despite my best intentions I had hope. I loved him so much. Even the thought of living without him drove me to madness and despair which further fuelled my downward spiral in areas other than just love. Desperation has its way of driving and accelerating downfalls.

And then one day, after I had gotten my contraceptive implant he just suddenly relapsed into a version of his old self. He was saying things and speaking like he used to before that spell of time when he was suddenly nicer to me and that shocked and nauseated me. It disturbed me more than it otherwise would have and I was confused and disappointed and didn't know what was going on. And began the downward spiral of me. Now I don't know if the hormones had anything to do with it but I spiralled out of control into a deep and self loathing depression. And I could not hold it in any longer. I began asking him questions, just hoping desperately to hear him say that he did care for me and to rebut my worst fears about the situation. And he did at first but I didn't believe him. They say actions speak louder than words and in my mind, his actions spoke very loudly indeed. But he was patient and indulged me for a time.

Then one day, after a long and revealing message to him in which I opened up and told him things I have held close to me for a long time and I explained my need for his help, he suddenly turned around and said that I was expecting too much of him and that all he wanted from me was first and foremost and primarily, sex. He had made it clear from the start. And he didn't even want to be friends because for him to make friends requires him to make a lot of emotional investment. I felt like everything I perceived to have built was crumbling all around me. And I was reeling. My heart was swollen in its sorrow and in its disappointment and I was reeling with the hormones and the emotions and they drove me mad. I didn't know what had happened. How could I have been so wrong and so naive? And so hopeful? I couldn't believe how wrong I had been and if not then how spectacularly I had ruined whatever it is I may have built. I could feel the old cracks in my heart breaking open again and the pain and sorrow pouring out from the seams. I begged him to come talk to me because somehow even after all that, deep down inside I still desperately didn't want to lose him. Because I loved him that much. It was strange. It was disappointing. It was heartbreaking and it didn't make sense. 

I don't know where we are now and what is happening even though I want so desperately to know for sure what is going on. And more importantly, how will it pan out in the end. He has caused me so much hurt. And I fear that everything that has happened has cemented the ruin of anything I may have built if there was anything at all, which in the circumstances indicate that it was unlikely I ever did. And the hurt still lingers. I want to ask him those questions but now there is also the fear that I have gone too far and wrecked the delicate balance. That those questions might just make things worse or I won't get the answers I want due to the current situation. That I may have passed the point of no return. Is this the end? 

Questions to the Reverend.

"I just wanted to ask you something. Have you ever wanted to know something so badly? And you pray and you just wish that the Divine will give you an inclination or a sign as to what's going on. I've prayed and I've asked for signs so many times on what to do, where to go and what is going on; wishing that I had just some inclination to guide my path. And maybe you do get them and maybe you don't. I don't know. But that's just the thing. After a while, you realise that even if you did get a sign, you can't interpret it and most of the time, you can't even recognise it. You don't know what's a sign, if it's a sign and what's it's trying to tell you and then, you're back at square one again. Not knowing anything. So what if you really really really wanted to know? I know that maybe sometimes we can't know; and we just have to live by faith. And I know that the nature of faith is its inclination to be uncertain and unknown. But have you ever wanted to know something so badly; when you really needed the guidance? ... How do you deal with that?"

Snapshot 1.

Day is but a momentary thrill, a fleeting rush when the sun shines and the world springs to life. But when the sun goes down and world sleeps with it, the truths of the lives of the people around us live in ways they never can, blinded by the light of the day and the activity of the morn. 

The Question of Strength.

I never really thought that there would ever be a time when the thing I'm most ashamed of in my life is my love for someone. But now here we are and here I am; too afraid to tell anyone I've fallen in love. There would've been no point in talking about it anyway. But that still doesn't detract from the point that the reason I don't talk about it to anyone is because I'm too ashamed of it. 

I know I wasn't supposed to. And from the start I knew I would. And I decided to do it anyway. But I never was not stupid when it comes to these things. The hopeless romantic in me always hopes that things will work out and how can it if I never try? And if I never take the risk? I can't say I regret it. I made the only decision I could have back then. And maybe life's emotional ravages have left me a wreck, but I can't help thinking that it's for a purpose. 

I was naive and I was golden. And it's easy to be nice when you're happy and when you're surrounded by glow, people are attracted to you in a way and that makes you happier, feel more in place. And the cycle begins upwards and upwards. But the same can be said for the downward cycle. I might've used to be golden. But now I'm not anymore. I'm fighting for scraps beside so many vermin by the sides of a road called "emotions" and "love". It is known also by many other names like "acceptance" and "belonging" and many more. 

I don't know when I started to lose sight of who I am; or who I thought I was. All I know is that it happened sometime along the way and it just slipped quietly away, not announcing its intentions to go and never come back. And thus a child experiences its first instances of abandonment. Maybe it's like shedding the old skin and shrugging into the new. And then having a user manual argument over how to makes sense of the new gadget. My new skin has come with many new heartbreaks and where my old one was golden, the new seems more a slick shade of black. Like oil. But then again, oil is also known as liquid gold. So maybe there is hope for me yet. 

I now understand many things I never even know I didn't know. I know why she did that. I know what she felt now. And I know what I felt then. And what I feel now. And that's how I know what she might've been going through. It's a sad truth to bear and it's a bitter pill to swallow. For her then and for me now. I know now also many other things I have taken forgranted and sworn off in my stance borne out of ignorance and a lack of understanding. And a part of me is ashamed that I ever did judge. That I ever did form those opinions I am now seemingly forced to swallow in my new understanding. And another part of me feels fear. For I understand that as people we do judge. And no one is exempt. For it would be many bitter experiences indeed if I were to be forced to learn that hard way why my opinions were ignorant and needed to change. Another part of me wonders why I need to know even when many go through their lives never needing to learn they were ever wrong. And I have learned much where love and pain comes into the picture. Somewhere along the road I have come to see love now as not the Disney version I always thought existed and would be the case for me. I know now that love is acceptance and swallowing the bitter pill many many times in less than ideal situations. It is discovering just how far you are willing to go for a person while forsaking yourself in the process. It is learning just how much you want something and how you can never know where the line will be drawn until you come to that line. I have forsaken all my principles and done all that I thought I never would do in the name of love. I have thrown myself so far from the safe zone from which I vowed to court love from and now have been embittered by the storms that sweep the desolate plains of where I stand from. Because though I may seem to have lost my compass, part of me knows I may have no intentions of ever going back anyway. I can't go back. I live here now. The shelter would be alien and it would be a lie. I've crossed a line and now I belong here although I never thought I ever would and I hoped I never would. 

More than anything, it has been a journey of learning. And it never was a sweet journey. But maybe the nectar is to be extracted from somewhere I never expected and is not yet found. But I will find it I think. Sometimes I think that I am not strong. But sometimes I wonder if maybe I am strong. And definitely stronger than this. In less than conventional ways, maybe even not in the best way. But strength is strength. And it can be moulded into whatever shape or form the bearer may wish it to be. 

Thoughts of Quiet Contemplation

It seems that I really am my own worst enemy. I was sitting on the bus today, a quiet peaceful journey through some beautiful english countryside. It was quite pleasant, very pleasant indeed actually. And while I sat on this journey my mind went on a journey of its own as it is wont to do in these later days. I thought back to a lot of things, a lot of things that left me feeling heavy and sad and lonely. It is not uncertainty now that whoever I fall in love with will only serve to bring me misery. There is no joy for me in these endeavours and I am inclined to give up; even if not now then very soon. What else is new. 

And in my intimations I felt a heavy pull on my heart. Like that of a weight, pulling me ever downward. I've never been loved. What that was, that was not love. And it resulted in a complete separation and thereafter complete indifference as if it was never there. It was never love. Maybe a close approximation of it but nothing more.

I've been incredibly fortunate in my life and for that I am extremely grateful. I have not had to bear the brunt of some of the storms that can weather a person but for reasons not known, I am perpetually denied that which I belief will give life much meaning. I am an empty husk of a person. Having never felt appreciation from someone for who I am, it seems that now I am incapable of love as well. I doubt myself when I wonder if what I call love is really love. I am incapable of love but yet I am very prone to hurt. So someone who is incapable of giving love and yet wants unconditional love beyond anything else. How does that make sense? 

I don't know when my obsession with obtaining love began. It crept up on me one day and before I knew it, it seems I can't live without it. Every day is an endless wait in which I berate myself for being such a fool as to hope. For my heart is torn, as torn as it can be without further physical damage. I don't know when this burning need took over everything that is good in my life and proceeded to create ruin to everything that I am. 

I don't understand how I can go on this way. Surely I cannot.