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.
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.
No matter how hard I think about it, there’s always the same feeling at the end. I’m just gonna have to admit it to myself.
I probably will always love and cherish you until the day I die.
But I probably will never be happy by your side.
Mother, if you had the chance to quit, would you have taken it?
How do we end up in our own personal nightmare? When you wake up and find yourself there, what do you do? Do you accept or do you rebel? You try to escape the mistakes made by them and still, you make the same ones. So where does your self recognition stand?
I am positively sure you all know what I’m talking about when I say – to hell with this. To hell with everything. For the first time ever, I am not going to shut myself up. Speak up – said one of the bitches in one of the awful American movies. Speak up for God sake!
And being the coward that you always have been, parallel to this though you should simply shut up. Shut up so hard that it hurts. you just simply cannot speak up. What would you say? Do you even know what you would say? Do you have any idea which words you would use or even how to start? Of course not. Speaking up is not a real thing. Just as much as a perfect working mother, speaking up only exists in those fucking movies.
So you take a few hours, listen to very sad songs – you realize that your Spotify list contains mainly those -, maybe write some stuff to your blog, hoping that it will save you somehow. Your drink a cup of coffee and a big cup of tea. Classic move. Like the steps of grief. Anger, sadness, depression, calmness, acceptance. All in one hour. Your realize that you have died a g a i n and you are burying yourself. “She had a good life” – you say and than you keep on living the life she lived. Without stepping or speaking up. Without strength, wisdom or any of the good qualities that might be helpful. You go back to being her, an ordinary person.
Mother, do I have a chance to quit or do I not?
When you had the chance, why didn’t you take it?
You suffer for a while, waiting for the moment to break out. Then you realize, there will be no breakout. Slowly you leave your childhood behind and become someone you don’t recognize anymore.
You’re becoming an adult, something you were always considered to be but never really were.
Life now means something totally different, something shaky and unsure. The beginning of the future, the time when you start count down and not up.
Like an earthquake, that’s how it feels.
Ott mindent akkor és úgy élek meg, ahogy van, nem gondolkodom, csak cselekszem
nincs múlt, nincs jövő, jelen van, amiben nincsenek hibák, csak lépések, nincsenek rossz döntések, csak kellemetlen pillanatok.
Ott élek, az vagyok, aki lenni akarok egy-egy pillanatban. Most az vagyok, aki lenni akarok az életben. Melyik a jobb?
Truth. No dare. 