I feel lost. More than I did before. I can’t seem to understand why. When I think about it too much pops into my head and yet, I don’t understand it at all. Clarity is so far off, that nothing even begins to make sense. But maybe, that is how we all feel these days. Nothing is certain, and uncertainty seems to be crippling. It seems that no matter how hard you work to secure yourself, your emotions and your health, the course of life ends up disrupting it all. Often with a big fuck you. I used to think I had come far, from all my pain and all my wounds. All the unaddressed trauma. I was wrong, it’s only dormant. Still very much alive, resting in corners to tick you off when you least expect it. How must one break free when all of it is slowly breaking you down. I can’t trust anyone. Not a single person. And that is a wretched way to be living. It’s exhausting, being the only person you can count on. Even when so many love you, you’re still very alone. With all your demons persisting that it is never going to be any other way. It feels like a privilege to have someone you can lean on, to have someone you can ask to take it from here, that I need a minute or two. From this chaos. Words keep running dry. Maybe because I feel too much, or feel nothing at all. It’s all dormant. It is not a blessing, to not understand you, to not feel. And yet, be tangled in wrath. How I wish to be free, free from it all. All my foolish decisions, and myself. This life has driven me to its edge. Denial has killed me. Writing about heartbreak has become pointless. Finding love is no longer a desire. Passion is long lost. How am I to carry on.
All of your life, you have carried on feeling empty and hollow. You never did realize what you’ve been looking for is a form of compensation for the lack of a support system. So, in a sense, it isn’t wild that you’ve always felt lost. Yet it is equally dreadful that you were constantly bashed for being the best of whom you could have been in the circumstances. It has never enough. You’ve always had to be doing better.
But why you? Why not them? Why not the people who’ve inflicted their pain upon you?
The kinda hugs that you wish you could stay in forever, the kinda people you wish you could always hold on to. The ones you’ve shared too much with & nothing they do ever is an excuse enough to let go. The ones who’ve become too toxic for you to stay with & impossible to be without.
When you love the version of yourself you grew into with a particular person, when they leave, do you stay put so you can stay intact the way they left you? Because moving even an inch would mean growing without them and becoming someone they would never know again. Would you want to become someone the person you loved never gets to know?
But.
What good is staying waiting for a train that may never come? And what good is leaving if it means forgetting what made you happy? Lastly, what good is writing about lost love, when it only spirals you into devastation.
It started dreamy as ever, and I’m not kidding when I say it was everything I’d ever wanted – apart from the fact I was getting too comfortable in someone else’s life without an invitation.
Maybe it was the fact that it was so wrong that it kept us going so strong. Or maybe it was all real. I don’t even know anymore. But I think I’ve lived in the world long enough to know – it’s not every day you come across a person who knows the way around your mind, heart, and soul.
What did he see in me though? What could he possibly see in me for him to look as if there were galaxies in my eyes? This man was my core shaker. But this man wasn’t mine.
But why was it so perfect apart from the fact it was so wrong?
Was it easier to alter your reality in one without strings? Like you could be anyone you wanted to be because it is a new book, a new story, a new affair?
It’s one thing to meet an amazing guy online and then meet him in person and fall in love. It’s entirely another thing to conduct a whole relationship online, convincing yourself you’ve fallen in love from a thousand miles away.
I love Sex and the City and I adore Carrie Bradshaw. For years I’d idolized her problematic relationships with men. But perhaps this might have been the most damaging thing I’ve done to myself in my twenties.
Her insecurities and how nuts it drove her about what other people thought of her and yet always continued to do as she pleased. How she sabotaged every relationship she’d ever been in since Big. How Aiden was perfect and she tried she really did but Big was always this one big exception and he was always so selfish he would just come and go as he pleased not caring about what it was doing to her.
He was confusing her when she never really got over him. She was really independent but when it came to anything that mattered she always needed someone to lean on. God, starting to unlove Carrie is breaking my heart but I can see how I’ve sabotaged myself by being so obsessed with her mentality.
They say;
“If you love something set it free. If it comes back it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be.”
or they were never yours – which in this case is too damn accurate.
“A better interpretation is that you cannot force someone to love you. You have to give them the freedom to choose.”
She Was Sea 