You know, there is one very simple way to pretending. Gifts.
In our relationship I needed someone to trust in, to rely on. Instead I got gifts, like I’m a fuckin charity case. Well I’m not you idiot. All I wanted was your support and love, all I wanted from you was to feel like you actually care about me. Looks like that’s above your emotional intelligence. To care.
So what the fuck did I expect when I made this decision hmm?
Well I never expected I would feel so alone and I never expected I would miss those stupid good morning and good night messages that kept us together. I never expected I would want to go back to the way thing were before. I never expected that I would ever again believe that he could change or that he would finally realize that I am exactly what he needs in his life. I never expected that I would be as dumb as to have faith in him again, never expected I would wake up feeling the empty space he left in me, I never expected anything.
I wanted the anger and emotional sickness to end. I wanted to end my suffering so I did the only thing I could possibly do in that position. I called upon Mary, the angel of emotional death to end the pain. I expected that with the injection it would just go away, puuph, disappear into thin air and never come back again. I was willing to be the stone wall without any feelings in this matter and I expected myself to become that wall. I expected relief and joy in finally being able to breath. From myself, I expected a good recovery with being that part of my surgically removed. From myself, I expected a smile.
If you want my advice, never ever trust your expectations. They ones that you listen to constantly change, but the ones that are true are buried so deep down that you can never dare listen to them. If you want my advice, turn off your humanity when you are forced to make a decision by your own body and mind. Your body will cheat you just as easily as your mind does. Do not trust, my man. If anything, I learned from this decision that when you have to think about it, it’s already screwed and you will be left with the barest expectations you have buried deep down. And then when you feel the sun on your skin again for a moment, clouds come and the rain is starting to pour down on your shoulders and you get so wet, your body becomes the heaviest weight you ever had to keep holding onto and you get to place, where it’s just Fifty shades darker – I just wanna keep calling your name, until you come back home.
So it happened. I did it. I did what I thought I would never be able to. I left him.
And I hate myself for it.
You know the five stages of grief? Yeah, me neither, but I do know, that there are anger and denial in it. You know where I am? I’m way past the anger,
I’m at the stage of r e g r e t.
Whoever said freedom is better, clearly did not care about the hardness of it.
Lilly Allen is singing “I need someone to rely on” in the background – really nice audio by Spotify sessions btw -, and I cannot help but feel absolutely right about my decision to let him go, let him be with whoever he wants to be with.
It became quite clear that he does not want to be with me, so why should we stick together? We are having a kid, yes. We live in different countries now, yes. So? Should I raise my kid with a constant reminder of why? Because for now, that’s all he is. Love as I know it cannot be like that. Love is action, love is words, love is kept promises. He is nothing like that. At all.
So it is my responsibility to realize, love will be given by someone else or for the time being, only by me. And I can only prey to God that he creates an unexplainable hole in his heart and that his love will grow in time. Relying on someone is possible and I intend to be the example of it’s possibility to my child.
But this blog is not about my child. It is about me. And I am dead at this moment. No matter how right I am, no matter how right my anger is, letting him go was harder than I thought it would be. Not because my eternal love can’t handle losing someone else, but because freedom right now seems like it’s going to stick forever.
I can’t possibly go back to having sex with different guys who like me but don’t love me. I can’t possibly go back to wanting sex from everyone. And I am terrified that that is exactly what’s going to happen.
Truth. No dare. 