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.
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 know that feeling when someone you care about is close to you yet seems far-far away? I know that feeling. And that someone is actually far-far away, not only with his heart, but his body and his mind as well. Guess what… I’m totally screwed.
I mean, how can I say that? I’m having a baby boy in a few weeks from now, I have a wonderful family, amazing brothers, amazing parent(s). Heck, my life should be crazy happy. There is only this tiny little problem, that I call daddy. Because the baby daddy is not a baby daddy.
What should I say? We met, he was there, 982 km away from me, we met a couple of times and at one point we got so lazy and so not responsible, that this baby thing happened. This baby thing changed my life – to be hones, in a good way. I already love him more than anything I have ever loved. So don’t judge me, for calling him a baby thing. But this is not about him now, this is about me and the baby daddy.
How should I have strength for anything when the only one who could be my true partner in this is staying in the shadows? Those fucking shadows.. I am growing to hate those. You know, ever since I met baby daddy, I have known that our story will be filled with disappointments, filled with tears and filled with so little happiness, one can hardly imagine.. I have always known. I can’t imagine my life without that man, I can’t imagine cutting my ties with him. This is what I get for having the time of my life in the past 2 decades.
But no matter how hard I try to bear the heavy weights, I am getting tired, am I getting frustrated and I am getting extremely sad about the very thing that brought the change I have been waiting for.
My baby might be the best thing that could have happened to me, but my baby daddy might be the worst. How and where do I find the strength to be alone in that relationship? What is the right move? Should I rebel or should I shut up? Should I be myself or should I be someone else? Should I define myself as his subject or should I dare to step up? Will he ever be mine? Will he ever look at me the way I look at him? Will he ever want me to be his family or will we always be the bastards?
See? Not so easy after all. Too many questions to handle at once. My head is exploding and no matter how hard I try to stand, I feel the floor trembling underneath me feet.
Surrounded with friends and family, yet feeling absolute numbness in yourself. That is what I call solitude.
No wonder nobody understands, no matter how hard they try, to understand what your eyes are saying when even you can’t figure out.
Decode. All you want is to decode yourself, to decide, to know what your thoughts mean. Or just to know what your thoughts are. Is it possible to be aware? Or you just accept the defeat and give up the war? Maybe waiting it out is the solution? Or do you have to fight harder? Is there any chance to win all by yourself? Is there any chance to win at all?
You want to do so much, yet you do absolutely nothing. You make decisions without ever really knowing about the consequences. You say things, you do things, you feel things. Always seeing ambivalents. Drives me nuts.
No beginning, no ending. Just the constant whatever it is. But it is constant. Permanent. Never fades away or disappears. Does it make any sense? I doubt so.
Este azt gondoltam, inkább a nem hiszekből legyen, mint a leszből nem. Ezért nem hiszek.
Hogy a mámor tette-e vagy sem, azt már sosem fogom megtudni. De ez talán nem is olyan fontos. Mert éreztem azt, amit eddig csak egyetlen ember érintése idézett elő. Éreztem a bizsergést, amit csak egyetlen ember simítása után éreztem. Egy csók a halántékon, egy kedves becézés. Ha tudta volna, ha tudtam volna, sose fekszünk egymás mellé. Ha tudná, sose látott volna meg. Ha értené tagadná, ha látná futna. Ha hallaná, megijedne.
Ha kérné, azt csak úgy nem kapná, de ha megkérdezné, többé nem értené. Hiába a kolera, itt nincsen se hajó, se biztos tudás. Itt hiába a pöttöm, olyan ritka dobbanás, az csak félelem és reszketés, egy veszélyeztetett terhesség. Örvendeznem kéne, de csak a merengésig jutottam. Úgy szerettem, ahogy csak Őt, úgy kívántam, ahogy csak Őt, és jobban félek tőle, mint tűz a víztől, mint a láng a csepptől.
Ha tudod, hogy a gyerek ki se nyithatja a szemét, fogod-e őt szeretni a halálig? Van-e választásod?
Mit csinálsz a fával, ha tudod, hogy a gyümölcse mérgezett? Kivágod gyökerestül vagy vársz egy életen át? Honnan tudod hogy elég erős vagy minden mérgezett harapáshoz? Honnan tudod, hogy a híd elég erős és nem szakad be a talpad alatt? Bízol-e még abban az egy szem gyümölcsben?
A múlásért könyörgöm, miközben a gyümölcs egyre nagyobb lesz. A gyümölcs erősen kapaszkodik, nem enged. Ott kell hagynom, vagy így kell szeretnem?
Truth. No dare. 