Love & Relationships: My life is a meme

Dating, Love, Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman, women

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“The heart knows when the search is over”

After living in a world of what can only be described as a bitter cocktail of loneliness and heartbreak for what seemed like forever, I found him. The one who has set my soul on fire, the one who my heart saw and went “oh, there you are, where the hell have you been?!”. The universe finally thought it was the right time for me to live all my favorite memes, all at once.

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I saw him from across the room and that was it. I was done. I could not stop looking at him. My eyes seemed to follow his every move. I realized I was doing this but I didn’t care if he thought I was being weird, I was 100% comfortable with being weird. I waited for this moment forever and me being weird was not going to get in the way.
He eventually came over, I’m sure I smiled and told him my name. I touched his beard and I was done. I was done. This is my person, standing right in front of me.
A simple hello seemed to have done the trick. He took my number, we shared a conversation, some laughs and a few smiles. We went on our merry way, he went home and so did I.

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Not even twenty four hours had passed before I got a text. And will you believe…I was done again. What the fuck is happening? I was excited. Happy to hear from him. Happy that he wanted to hear from me too. I couldn’t be anymore done than I already was, but, I was. I was done.
It felt like I was living a meme “sometimes home is a heartbeat” and “you can be homesick for a person too”, the entertainment factor was so high, I was loving it.
And now, as if time has stood still yet moved so quickly, I get to look into his eyes. And he gets to look at me, like I’m the only person in the room. We’ve done this since that first night.5683a54799fdd8ca0b64faad244cf9b5We speak as though we have known each for years…not in this lifetime of course, because I only met this man a few weeks ago, but we’re both convinced that we’ve known each other in lifetimes before.
We never kissed the night we met, but that’s okay, because he kisses me now, he kisses me all the time.

Fancy Meeting Someone For The First Time Quotes quote his beloved
He listens to me. Pays attention to every word I say. Finally, someone who hears even the things I don’t say. And his voice; oh my God…his voice is like music to my ears and I would do absolutely anything to hear it, every single day.

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I feel like the luckiest person in the world right now because I must have done something right in my life to be given everything I have ever asked for. Literally, every single thing I have ever asked for…even the things I thought were most frivolous at best and most likely put in place to make it so impossible so I could never get hurt or disappointed again. But here he is.

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So, here I sit, replaying the countless memes and quotes I have recited over the years and laughed at the ridiculousness thereof: “one day someone will come along and make you realize why it never worked out with anyone else” or “your soul mate will be the stranger you recognize” …but I’m living a meme right now…because if I ever thought things were meant to be before, and you best believe my dumb ass thought that countless times before; I couldn’t have been more was wrong, because no one has ever, nor could nor will they ever compare to this one.

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***And guess what, he feels exactly the same way…4fdf25200e1a18c4ab4e9c511180ead8

 

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Love & Loss: Dancing with an angel

Death, Uncategorized

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There is no recovery after a man like him. No recovery from being wrapped around him; intertwined, twisted, bent and then finally broken.

There’s no recovery from a man like him, I dared to try, for years. Even when I thought I had recovered he found a way to break me down again. I’ve stopped trying.

I tell myself all the time that if I thought loving him was difficult, try forgetting him. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’ve stopped trying.

I’ve simply learnt to dance with his memories until the music dies, the way he did.

I simply dance with his memories and then move on once they whisper “goodbye”…

…the way he never did.

Love & Its Inevitable Ending: Death

Death, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

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He knew I could never live in a world where he doesn’t exist. 

I grieved him and us and what we had while he was still alive. I mourned the loss of our life and our love for almost three years. It was difficult but I always knew he was out there somewhere, walking around, laughing, dancing, living. But that’s all changed now.

I started this blog in an attempt to try and write him out of me, to try and write the words I was unable to speak, to tell the stories I could never tell. All in the hopes that one day it can finally be over. That I can finally stop loving him, stop hating him, stop feeling him.

114 posts; more than half about him; the man I loved more than life itself, the man who loved me, hated me and broke me. Gosh, he loved me. Sometimes I knew it, other times I questioned it.

114 posts about love {having love, losing love, thinking I’d found love to actually falling in love again}.

114 posts about heartbreak, pain, sadness, the inevitable healing and moving forward.  and the things I did to forget him. Trying in vane. Always. Because he knew I belonged to him and I knew it too.

114 posts about learning to live without him and they have to end today. They have to end today because he died. The love of my life, the man that changed my world, the man who owned my heart even thought he broke it several times over, he is dead.

His heart stopped beating Friday the third of March 2017 at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night in an area far away from where he and I shared a life, a home. Friday the third of March was when his life ended {taken}. His last breath drawn {taken}. He left. Me.

“23 Nov – We never even said goodbye to one another, baby we gonna be apart forever”

I have tried to be okay. Even answering the questions “are you okay” with a “yes”. Mostly lies because I’m not. I dream about him every night, he’s banging on my windows screaming my name, screaming for me to help him. But I can’t. I couldn’t. It wasn’t my job anymore. It was hers. She never did her job.

So I’m stuck with these questions in my head all day. Why was he there, why did he lie to her, why was he without her, why did he leave without his things, why was he in the street, what did he say to them when they approached him, did he scream for help? Did he try and fight back? Did he know he needed help.Why was there no one to help him? Because he never needed it that’s why! He was strong, and fit, he never needed help until that night. And no one was there.

I spoke with him briefly the Thursday, some time between 5 & 5h30pm, we laughed, he quoted Riel Prophets’ song “ChillinLike A Villain”. He loved rap music, hip hop…I never knew that would be last time I’d hear from him. I replied with a laughing face emoji and the words “I’m glad” …my last words to him was “I’m glad” because I was. He seemed up beat and relaxed. Staying out of trouble. I wanted to believe him. {Believe. The word tattoo’d on his arm, his motto, Believe} I wanted to. But that was the last time I will ever hear from him. Of him yes, the day I got the news I “heard of him” again. “They found his body” …”He’s dead” it said. But not from him. I heard of him. Because he is dead.

We always spoke about who would die first {I always believed I would because cancer runs in our family} and we spoke about who would tell the other about it. I told him I would feel it, the day he no longer breathes, but I didn’t, I felt nothing at all. I woke up that Friday, went to work, wrote my 114th post, mostly about him; again, and went on my merry way. In fact, I still spoke about him that Friday night, I said “I would have done anything to be with him, and I did, I did it for us, and love” I did everything. Everything I could, except be there when he needed me. When he died.

We never thought he would actually die, he was immortal you know {his words}, he was my superman {my words}. The one that protected me and also the one who I ended up needing protection from.

I woke up that Sunday, that’s when I got the news. That’s when I heard of him. I dropped my phone and started shaking. Crying. That was how I knew I would feel. Like my heart is breaking all over again, shattering into a million pieces. My already broken heart, breaking even further. He knew I could never live in a world where he doesn’t exist. He died anyway.

How did it feel to lose him? Like every goodbye ever said to me, all at once.

All. At. Once.

114 posts. And this, is my last one.

 

 

 

Love & Personality: Touch my heart but don’t touch me

Dating, Love, Uncategorized

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Love is not complicated, people are.

It’s kind of difficult though when the one thing you need in life is something you don’t want. Or at least, not something you want from the one who loves you.

Don’t get me wrong; I am all about massages, head rubs, playing with my finger tips {yes, that is a thing} but yet, it’s the affectionate touches that seemingly bothers me the most.

Oddly enough there were moments where touch was extremely important to me…for me to {want to}touch him and to {want to} be touched by him. These were the times I was in love, with him. Like utterly, soul shakingly, eye blindingly in love. These are the times I would remember. And these are the times that has created the basis for every other touch.

I remember times as I lied beneath him I’d feel him start at my ankle, slowly stroking my my calf with his fingers, my thigh, groping my butt {as if to say “this here, this belongs to me..and it did}. He’d make his way up from the small of my back, squeezing my shoulder before he’d stroke the entire length of my arm eventually landing his palm into mine…he’d gaze up, into my eyes and look at me with what felt like bewilderment for what he’s seeing, for what he had just felt; physically, emotionally…holding my hand with every part of our bodies touching each others’…that, that was touching.

He  was able to touch my body, my mind, my heart…because I wanted him to, because I was in love with him, and because of that I needed him to feel it, to feel that love, to feel my body that I gave to him.

Love was beautiful, I miss it though. I miss the anticipation, the electricity {literally; when we’d touch we’d shock} the corner of the mouth smile when our eyes meet from across the room, I miss the want but most importantly I miss the self I become when I am in love. Different. Who I am supposed to be.

Softer, rounded edges. More gentle, caring. But I’m also possessive, obsessive, jealous and paranoid. Until I have unlearned the latter, I cannot be the former and I cannot enjoy the touches and everything that accompanies it that I so deeply desire.

So for now, I will continue to seek other ways of receiving and demonstrating my emotions…but mostly, I wait for the day that my eyes look at another the way they looked at him, before I even knew exactly what he was going to be. Mine. Forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome to the Broken Hearts Club: the most unexclusive club in the universe

Uncategorized

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I always knew your heart was broken, you wore it in your eyes and every time I looked at you I could see it, and so I treated you as such. Patient, soft, with gentle words and actions. Always tender and kind. Calm and understanding. Never blatant, disrespectful or harsh.

The difference with you was that you saw mine and thought that meant I was incapable of feelings because that’s what your broken heart has done to you…and so you, treated me as such…

Fact is, you can’t break what’s already broken. The mere fact that something is broken only proves that it can be fixed. I am no stranger to this process. You are. And you always will be until you realise that broken things are fragile and you seemed to have forgotten that.

Love & Relationships; Space & Time

Dating, Love, Relationships, sex, Uncategorized, Woman, women

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Sometimes I have to re read my words, the words that my heart spoke during a very difficult time in my life. I re read them to remember how far I have come and to remind myself to never ever go back there.

I remember so much sadness. I wish I could forget that feeling. The emptiness, the despair.

I remember how lost I was and I remember the things I did to try and find my way back to myself again. It seemed in vain. But I tried.

The things I did to make myself “feel” better when in actual fact I couldn’t feel anything at all. But I tried.

I remember hoping & praying that one day I would be able to be okay again, myself again. I remember hoping & praying to heal, so that one day when he comes along I can be whole and happy and not allow my past to hurt my present. My gift, the gift i hoped for. A feeling out of the brokenness.

Sometimes I forget to remember, those are the days I smile. Laugh. The days I forget to remember, those are the best ones.

I never used to laugh much, but I remember being happy; but I also never used to cry as much as I did. I remember each tear, like a lover lost; fading the further it went.

I liked laughing. It was better that crying. I found my laughter again, and it’s been a while since I cried, until a few nights ago, until he made me cry again. The one that gave me that feeling. The one I hoped for. He made me cry.

Crying because I couldn’t understand how you could say to someone “I think we need space” when space is all we ever had? So callously. So carefree. So inconsiderate.

And no matter how many times I tried to close that space, he found equal and more powerful ways of reinstating it. Again, I tried.

How do you tell someone “I think we need space” when that is all you have ever given them, because you knew they needed it, and they needed time; time to understand that not all women are the same, time to understand that maybe I won’t do what she did, time to understand that it could be different. Time to heal the same hurts I have. I tried. He never did. And seemingly never will.

He doesn’t get to say that. Space and time was all I ever gave him because I thought that’s what he needed.

Until it became clear that that was what he wanted.