I am watching Pirates of The Caribbean (that very old one from, I think the year, 2003. I was five years old then. HA!) for the first time.
I am also angry because I have a boyfriend who doesn’t care about me well enough (I have to summarize. I am disappointed) and I have said I am done close to a million times but then…
I don’t know.
I find that I say this a lot. Sometimes, I really actually do not know. This is one of those times.
I’m contemplating on ghosting for a few weeks or months, until I’m sure there’s nothing to go back to… Perhaps take on a new adventure (perhaps a new catch?) Anything to feel alive again. Like I actually matter, you know?
You should know, I am a huge anti-toxic relationships ambassador. I have done rigorous research and read on and on about how to identify, avoid and overcome unfulfilling relationships.
So, I know those things that are right. I know what I am supposed to do when I feel a certain way or when the partner acts or feels a certain way. Only they’re very hard to initiate and set going when the person on both ends of the conversation is myself.
Wherever strength to move on comes from, lead me to that source.
The picture is a goat I encountered a few days ago on a farm and is unrelated to my topic of discussion. I just thought he’s cute!
I’m not worried that he is cheating. Actually, he better be cheating than have forgotten about me. He better be dying or dead. His phone better be lost. All his fingers better be broken. He better be swimming in an ocean or river right now trying to save his life. He better be doing practically every other thing in the world. But to forget that I exist? That is unforgivable.
Baby snake swallowed by a frog
One of my dreams in life is to have so many animals. A whole lot of them, and that includes a frog or two. Reptiles, amphibians, birds, fish and all sorts of mammals, including farm animals 😄. I also love in-house plants. I picture myself living in a perfect little jungle-simulation house with all the space and fresh air and chirps and bellows of happy animals… And honestly that’s what I’ll calibrate my success by… A happy eco-friendly, clean-energy home.
And everytime I feel like I deserve an explanation, I sit myself down, and I tell myself reasons why I shouldn’t feel entitled to anything. I outline them, so that I don’t forget. Each time.
‘This is probably just all in my head, and I really don’t matter that much, right?’ And I would rather not know. God forbid you said yes. And confirmed that it’s all been a lie. My lie to me, or your sweet sweet lie to me, that I picked up like a hungry raven and feasted upon for all this time
Do I care? Well. I don’t know. I don’t think I should. I have learned to not think that I should care. Conceal, don’t feel.
Everytime I feel like I’m overreacting, I train myself to deserve less, to want less, to have lower standards. So I don’t react at all. God forbid I said something, and upset you in the process.
Was I meant to ‘be humble’ like that? What is the line between humility, and having too low standards?
Every time I start to feel like you’re not enough, I start to wonder what really would be enough for me. Then I just don’t want it any more: I don’t want enough. I want you. So I convince myself that you’re enough- everything I need.
This is a game. Where you always win. And each time I start to feel anything, I have to stop. I am not allowed to be mad. I am not allowed to be childish. I can’t act out, and I can’t say what I want – because I don’t want to scare you away.
It’s crazy how heartache fills you with poetry. It’s crazier how fulfilling it is to be broken. While nothing is as lonely as happiness, it is still undoubtedly funny how sadness feels so much like home.
So, I will allow myself to get hurt. I shall stay up late, forgiving you from the bottom of my heart. I shall always let the blame fall on me. I shall apologize for your mistakes. I shall apologize for being displeased. I shall apologize for my emotions… I shall faithfully try to not feel any pain at all. I swear. The melodious sound of my weeping heart will soothe me to sleep, during any other hour of the day. I shall break hard. I shall fall apart so effortlessly. It will hurt terribly, to the point where I can physically feel it. When it is over, I will taste that regret so clearly on my own tongue.
But still, I shall not learn. I will always seek to have my heart broken, and my mind changed, my decisions questioned and my presence disregarded. I will always go back to you to get hurt, that is my home.
When you told me that you had ran out of love with me, that you had run out of ways of showing love to me, that you were done trying to love me the best way you could, something happened. Something both so liberating and overpowering.
It took me some time but in the end, I did act it out.
I cried my eyes out, not for any particular reason. Mostly, I usually tend to think is because I was sad, broken by the fact that me casting my beautiful net out into the sea didn’t in anyway, make me catch beautiful fish. Those are the times when I got to analyse feelings, and to really get behind them. Ed Sheeran – it’s too cold outside for angels to fly, finally made sense to me. I was curious how he got to feel this way, and to be able to put it in actual words, and explain to me exactly that what I felt at that moment, even when I had no idea what the hell that was. Surely then, he must have hurt, bad
This big lump.
You know, really… I don’t know what taking care of yourself means. To let go and go wild, or to tame it and reserve self? To party like an animal, or get lost in a book? After I am broken, I don’t know if it means I’m a butterfly, or a snowflake. There’s a lot of strength coming from the knowledge that you didn’t die, and fear emanating from the fact that all in all, you got hurt.
So I don’t know. I don’t know if crying helps. I don’t know what all these things happen for. And honestly I’m not a bit curious to find out. ’cause I’m afraid to find out that it was not worth all the sleepless nights, puffy eyes and those days, those very long days when even the mere light of the sun is bound to set you off like a hunter’s arrow, when it was so hot that you wanted to take all your clothes off and walk free, but also felt like those fuzzy socks sweatpants and a hoodie were doing you a good one in keeping yourself away from the open when you were in the open.
I know how it feels when it evolves from a crush, to the thing that practically crushes you down into your spirit. I know how it feels when it moves from feeling so secure in your own person, to not knowing who the hell you are. I know how it feels to want to leave but you are not nearly as strong as to tell them something as little as they upset you with their words or actions.
So every time I feel like I don’t know how, I need to remind myself that I do know. And not only that, that I actually can. I can survive alone. I can get up and leave. I actually can. It will be a fine session, maybe a month or two, of layers and layers of old and fresh tears. Old and fresh memories. Going and coming back. But when I spring forth at the right angle and speed, I won’t spring back. I shall be able to take my leave. Maybe, just maybe, the snowflake is better off as water, or water vapour. Same old original mesh and DNA, only more stable and not threatened by change.
Focus on your breathing. Count those sighs. Look in the mirror. Honestly and earnestly see through the person. I am human. I can feel it. I am human.