I gave love the finger six years ago. Turned my back on it and said ”it’s just me now, scary as hell, but that’s how it’s got to be”.
So I told a good man I didn’t love him anymore. It wasn’t true. But I needed to stop loving him in order to start loving myself. I needed to throw love out the window in order to find it again.
And to do that, I would have to build myself up from zero. Because I was nobody. Nothing but a well-behaved tangle of pain, a silent scream, reluctantly alive, always anticipating the next crash.
So I left.
It was two years ago today. I was standing outside my house, waiting for a cab. Standing in the drizzle, with a laptop under my arm, crying and waiting, waiting and crying. Trying to breathe.
Raindrops. Tears. Tiny breaths.
Yes, there I was. In the rain, outside my house. Crying and waiting for a cab. Dressed for a meeting, but heading for the E.R. Thinking I didn’t want to die. Finally, I really, really wanted to live.
That made me feel a little better.
I couldn’t go through with it. Yet I couldn’t not want it. And I still want it. I got three weeks of foreplay, then nothing.
Nothing, but the constant yearning for something that is no longer available. Something that would eventually have made the withdrawal even worse. Something that I could not bring myself to do, no matter how much I wanted to.
Something else held me back. Maybe my heart. Maybe it has its own special immune system to protect itself from being shattered.
Maybe. But the rest of me still wants that next fix.
Why are we so afraid of the dark? Why all the concerned frowns and nervous laughter? I cannot be truly happy without staring into the darkness once in a while. Can anyone, really?
There is no light without the dark. No joy without sorrow. No life without death. Sure, go ahead and try to fight off the pain and the darkness, while desperately clinging to the joy and the light. Try. You’ll probably just end up exhausted.
Better to cry your eyes out for fifteen minutes. Or a weekend. Then dry those tears, have a cup of coffee and gaze into the sun. Life is beautiful.
Did we do it?
Did it hurt me anyway?
Eyes, hands and words were quite enough to make me fall.
Do I have regrets?
Regrets are not an option. I knew it could never be. I knew he belonged to someone else. I knew it was only lust. I wasn’t looking for love. I wanted the adventure. Of course, knowledge and intentions were no match for a loving heart.
So, now it hurts. But this too shall pass.
Posted in English
Tagged life, love
Does it hurt? Is it dark? Can you hear one thousand voices screaming inside your head? Is your heart falling through a hundred hell holes?
It can pass. It might not. But it can pass. It may take years of seemingly hopeless struggles. But it can pass. I know.
It is not a feeling. It’s an attitude. It is not the absence of pain. It’s the ability to experience pain without letting it crush you. It is not luck. It’s ambitious, patient and rewarding work.
Happiness does not happen. You make it happen.
Posted in English