Dating & Relationships: Words Worth Writing

Break Ups, Dating, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

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Each time I write, the words splash pieces of myself into a place where anyone can touch them. And when I realized I wasn’t driven to pen & paper each time we were together, my heart knew it wasn’t worth it.

I think about everyone I have ever written about, the emotions tied to every word. The memory linked to each sentence. The feeling each paragraph reminds me of. I’ve been a bucket of emotions for as long as I can remember {…pity no one else knows this about me}.

Sometimes I go back to reread my very own history when I feel the memories slipping away. Sometimes I cry, other times I smile. But no matter what the emotional response, at least there are ones. With him, there was nothing, nothing worth writing about, nothing I wanted to remember, nothing worth remembering to be honest. Except that I now know that the words I love you mean nothing if not backed up by action. That three words can get cold real fast.

Why did I even let it go on this long, four and half month of being his girlfriend when I never missed him when we were apart. Never longed for his smell and touch and the sound of his laughter…never had the sense of anticipation for our next time together erupt out of me and land on my face as blushed cheeks and permanent smiles. Never did the urge to want to be next to him, to touch him, to hold his hand ever envelope me the same way I wanted his body to.

I knew this from the beginning though, that I felt nothing for him. I never did. Not in all the years we knew each other, he was never on my radar; what he turned out to be was a rebound. I never wanted to admit it, but that’s all he was. I literally needed to drink every time we were together, being sober around him was excruciating. I knew the longer it continued the more i would lose pieces of myself, and not in my words, on these pieces of digital paper…but I’d lose myself completely trying.

Be with someone worth writing about. Be with someone who makes you smile. Be with someone who’s actions don’t require the constant and sometime premature “I love you’s”…but most importantly, just be with someone you can be yourself with, your best self, the person you want to be because of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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. I t 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 heard 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.} 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. “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”

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. 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.

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 this one the way they looked at him, before I even knew exactly what he was going to be. Mine. Forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

Women & Love: Only when you know what love is not, will you find out what it really is

Uncategorized

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I don’t think I have ever truly been in love before, not the way it’s supposed to be at least. You know; the way poets describe it, the way authors write about it. Being in absolute love, not something I have ever had the privileged of being in.

Not until now that is. Well, a few months ago when I met him for the first time. I looked into his face one night {even murmured a few words} not even knowing his name but somehow everything changed. A part of me realized I found what I had been looking for. The other part of me. That thing that I was missing. He was right there.

I am different with him, in a good way. I speak differently, softer, more gentle. I behave differently, calmer. I feel differently, awake, in touch and aware. I could hold his hand and not be afraid. I can cry in front of him and be okay. I can tell him how I feel and the world wouldn’t come to an end. My heart has opened, it chose him and changed.

Missing him is not heart wrenchingly painful. There is no jealousy, no obsession, no possession. No nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach when I imagine the endless possibilities of what he is doing when i am not with him. I just feel content knowing that I breathe the same air he does. That the same sun touches both our skins in the day and the same moon lights up our sky at night. No matter where we are, I feel him as though he was next to me.

It was the oddest thing, when I realized I was in love. Weird, different. It’s so beautiful though that even though I don’t know if we will ever be together, wanting him to be happy is the only thing that matters to me. Whether it’s with me or not. *How mature is that!? We’ve had our moment and continue to have them when the world brings us together just often enough to remind us of the other. The other times however I do spend my time not waiting for him…he’s never asked me to, and I have never asked him too either…there is no expectation, there is no disappointment. I have others and I am sure he does too. Which is why I know this is real what I feel, knowing I love him, knowing I will be ready when our time comes.

Simply knowing he’s alive right now means more to me than anything and knowing that our time will come and when it comes I need to be ready to love him. I have been waiting since the start of forever for my forever and I knew my heart would find him eventually, and I knew when I did there would be no turning back. I fell in love with a man, and it was soft, and gentle; the way you fall when you fall asleep…not the way I used to do it, the way when you fall off a cliff and break all your bones and die.

 

 

Love & Heartache: My X, Y?

Break Ups, Cheating, Relationships, Uncategorized

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This week was the first time that I saw a photograph of him and her together, it’s been 3 years and this was the first time. I saw it once before however, but that was at a “work event’, little did I know that it had already started back then. It’s not like I went looking for it, it appeared on my TL. I never asked for it, I never even realized what it was in the beginning. Something told me to ignore it, but instead, I chose not to. I wanted them to know I know, I wanted everyone else to know my damn name.

I don’t know why I reacted the way I did. Anger.  Lots of anger. Lots. I wanted to rip his throat out and throw it at her. I wanted the earth to swallow them and take them away and hopefully with it all my feelings too.

My feelings for him. My sadness, anger, pain and despair. Why the fuck do I still love him?! Why do I convince myself that I don’t?!

Am I officially insane? This man wanted to kill me for God’s sake.

Why does seeing them together hurt me so badly?

Why do I still feel so angry and filled with rage?

Why can I just not let them be?

It’s because he lied. It’s because he cheated on me, with her. It’s because he lied. It’s because she answered his phone when I called him. It’s because he lied about her. It’s because when I asked her about I’m she said “jou pa se p&o$” as if she knew my father…as if she had a right to be angry at me…as if me asking if she’s sleeping with my boyfriend gave HER the right to be angry at me. It’s because she didn’t know me. She knew about me, from the lies he told. It’s because she didn’t know she was the other woman. It’s because he lied.He lied. To me. All the time.

Seeing that photo has taken me ten steps backwards, I’m feeling the same way this week that I did 3 years ago. The sadness, crying, headaches, insomnia; it’s all back. The pressure, tension and anxiety. The mood swings. They’re all back. Like a fucking reunion of my mixed messed up emotions.

I hate him again for doing this to me, but then I hate myself again for allowing it.

I was trying really hard, to get better. I really was. I even tried to fall in love again, I even tried to convince myself that I was. I wish I could be, that is the only way I won’t love him anymore, is if I love someone else, but I don’t want to love someone else just to stop loving him, because that’s not fair either. But I feel nothing. This is why I do what I do; in an attempt to feel something. It never works.

So I’m going to be stuck in this limbo for a while and it hurts me every day while I’m here, but I don’t know where else to go.

*The way I loved him was some kind of powerful, I’d give anything to feel that way again, but I’d give everything to feel this kind of pain again…not ever. Not ever again

Women & Love: Making love amidst the hate

Uncategorized

I never knew what it was like to hate another until the day I started hating him.

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It’s an over powering emotion, hatred. Rids you of everything good…I used to be kind, gentle and caring. I used to be soft and loving. I am not her anymore.I knew if I continued to harbor those negative emotions that hatred would eventually consume me, lead me into situations and exhibiting behaviors that I had never thought could be possible, that could ever be me. I lived on that roller-coaster for a little over 18 months simply trying to feel something, anything…anything other than hate and something other than sadness. So, with that being said, it has taken a while for this choice to finally be made; I’ve said it before, even believed it…but now ready to make peace with it.

I’ve made peace with no longer being in love with him, although I still love him.

I’ve made peace with not hating him…although I still fear him.

I made peace with the fact that I will eventually  “nothing him”. That I will be immune to his name, his memory. That the fear of him knowing will eventually nullify itself as I move into a better space.

Being semi-neutral toward a man that I used to have such intense and powerful emotions for, I am able to find some glimmer of hope that I can indeed move on, again. I believed this many times before, but each time to a realization that maybe no, maybe I was indeed not ready.

Being semi-neutral gives me a glimmer of hope that I can develop feelings for someone else, healthy feelings…but those glimmers of hope are short lived when my other temperaments flare up again. Jealousy, possessiveness, expectations, my short & explosive temper…you see, I’m not very nice anymore, nor am I better. I never will be better, but I can be nice again. This is my battle, the one I fight every day.

I thought I could fall in love again, I did. I thought so. I still do. I think. I even tried making love while consumed by all this hate. Making love is not exactly what I would call what I was doing, but I tried. I really did. I still do. Most days trying is all I can do.

You see, I’ve always been the one giving too many chances, overlooking red flags, but sometimes I need peace, I need the white flag for once…and some times, most of all, all I need is simply a chance too.

*And so here I am again. Indifferent. And in love. I think.