Strangeness 

​I feel hot and cold at the same time. I am sick to my stomach and dealing with digestive issues caused by anxiety and heartbreak. It’s this nausea inducing strangeness. An ocean between us and I can feel the waters suffusing my lungs. I hate this alienation or threat thereof. So unforgiving, I am trying to move on and I can’t stop looking at his pictures and reading old message threads. I should not be doing this. I know this. I know this. I know this.
He was by no means perfect and we weren’t an obvious match but there was always something about the way he followed my blood around. The most delicate and attentive man I know. He is this kind of human that evokes wonder but in all his glory, he was spineless. Still tethered to his mother’s tits. Noble in thought, weak in action. I pity him sometimes. I love him for all he is and for what he is not but he never dared to fight for us and our relationship which wasn’t “allowed” in his system. Bullshit. He never fought for us because he didn’t want to. I did not fit the criteria. My race was all wrong, this was something I later came to find out. It was never about religion. Of course he vehemently denied this.

He tells me these things, how he wishes more than anything he could be with me forever. How he wants to wake up next to me every morning, have children and how he loves me more than I know. All these declarations, I tuck them inside this heart of mine but does it even matter, he still left. I thought he would come after me when I broke up with him. I gave him an implicit ultimatum- and that is to give me more- I no longer wanted to hide, I wanted to be with him in the eyes of all but he never flinched and I was out the door. He still kept banging down my door, in secret of course. He gives the impression of a man backed into a corner, so he can fulfil his traditional parent’s wishes and marry someone of his own kind. They would disown him he said. What a fable. Spineless.

Today is our anniversary. I was overly emotional at first now just spacey. My stomach is detached from my mouth and appetite. I can eat and enjoy but I feel sick. I used an old lotion I used to apply when we were together and that was how the landslide started this morning. I went back to our Saturday afternoons.

Loosening

​​​I feel as though I am loosening and falling apart at the edges. I had it. Mid month, I had it. That calmness, that rage and everything inbetween. I could place my emotions and name them. Lately I have been feeling like I threw myself back into the storm and I am losing it. Whatever I had mid month, I lost it.  I recognise this feeling, it’s this lost in Siberia, stinging abandonment & helplessness that morphs into bitterness feeling. I recognise this feeling and I know it has no life but I can’t let go.

I am on the verge of great change, something big is happening in a matter of days and now is not the time to feel this way. I need to be in a place where I can celebrate and anticipate my forthcoming breakthrough and be mentally present for my family but I can’t stop fixating on him and what may be going through his mind and if he really has loosened his grip. 

He told me about his new job over there and I felt that freezing sensation under my skin again and my hands became Jittery. It’s knowing he is sowing firm roots over there, that is what sends me over the edge. It’s another nail in the he really is gone for good coffin.The sad truth and this is my confession, I would give up all the things coming my way soon if I could get to be with this man and build a home with him.

Still a thousand kilometres apart, I feel like I am losing him again and I am beginning to feel the familiar ache that comes with him and all the motions we go through. I opened a healing wound, opened up my heart and its not like I could not see through the veneer of make belief & the screaming impermanence but at that moment and those days it felt so good. To talk for hours, to share, confess. Even with the distance I sometimes felt him beside me, this other day I felt him breathing beside me but it was all just a dream. This yearning runs deep.

You receive what you return, and I felt that no matter what the circumstances at least the mutual love was there. This singularity. Suppose all of this is rationalisation, easier on the heart, holding on to the idea rather than fully accepting it for what it is. Over.
 

Dragging to sea

​I have somewhat been lost in the dream. I say somewhat because I am realistic enough to know that what we have will never be more than this but it is tremendously healing. We keep dragging each other to sea.

 I learned to cradle and love but I also learnt how to live without when we ceased communication, the darkest days of my life yet.  He reappeared when I had come to grips with the break up, when I stopped crying all day and every emotion had faded to black but however still raw. He said he can’t live without me and said the most touching words, I could doubt his sincerity but he has nothing to “profit” since he is a million miles away. Those words were catalyst that turned my quivering river into a silent unruffled flow. 

I healed a little more that night. Healed from him and what he could not give me. 

There was this stillness in my bones.

I still need his presence in my life in whatever capacity. I need him. I don’t know what we are doing at present but it seems we are carrying some kind of long distance relationship, whatever it is. We talk all day and until the early hours of the morning only stopping because of sleep stealing us away. 

Maybe I should not have opened the door but what can I do when he is some kind of antidepressant. He is the only thing I can stand. I heal on my own but with him presented into the picture, I heal wholly. I am playing a dangeous game. Trying to be careful with my grip, they say the looser it is, the easier. I should know this.

My moods have improved, I have been praying and I don’t know what happened the week of August 10.. I just went blank, I meant to write but I lacked the attention span. I am working on something big that could potentially be life altering and I am excited and afraid. This thing came at the right time, a life line of sorts. It will happen. 

Bordering on psychotic 

​I particularly hate this time of the day now. The specific look and shade of the sky, the faint sun fading over the horizon, the slight chill in the breeze. This familiar.
This time is when I used to be walking towards the bus stop to go and see him after he finished work. Another Ritual. Severed. It became the most natural thing. The seasons bled into each other, from the blazing hot summer, to the rainy summer, to winter. I remember braving the rain to see him at all costs, nevermind my drenched shoes or the chill of the water because he would be there at the finish line.

In my attempts at carefully managing this breakup, I have stopped wearing my old perfume. The one I wore especially for him. Just a whiff of it takes me back and saddens me. I pass by the old spots and streets and I feel as though there are traces of him in the air and something supportive to my emotional well being is quietly gutted out of me. I can handle old songs. Just these places and rituals that destroy me. 

 I can still see his face each time I think of him, the black of his hair, the bright eyes. The delicate features.

I have stopped keeping tabs on him, so what if he was last seen on Facebook 2 hours ago.  Just seeing his last seen comforts me somewhat because its a reaffirmation that it is still there. Am I psychotic. I can’t make sense of this madness. There is a vast sea between us now,  it doesn’t matter now. Nothing does. Nomatter how the stars align someday, I’ll never have him.

Severed Ritual

​Last night I felt uplifted, I jammed some old school rock, watched tv with my family, ate a healthy dinner, hydrated and felt clear headed after a day of fun filled bingeing and purging. For a moment I allowed myself to smile and laugh but it felt so forged, as though I was cheating on my grief.

The boyfriend and I had this… game that we played, we bought it a couple of months into the relationship and it became the activity that was central to our hanging out. A ritual of some sort. We even rushed all other activities when we hung out, even sex just so we could rush and indulge in the thing that we shared this mutual love for, we could talk for hours, never checked our phones, exchanged banter, he would be naked and I wrapped in a sheet, it was incredibly intimate and fun. He was my best friend and boyfriend at the same time. 

 Last night I asked him what he did with the.. game and he told me that he sold it just before he left and once again, I was hit in the face with the abrupt finality of it all.  I swear I heard a gavel strike some hard wood, a door slamming shut and my stomach sank, hands weightless. I cried until my head was pounding and drifted off to sleep.  

And Again

When you actually start to believe that you are coming to terms with fact that you can live without communicating with someone, ever. Just when you think the song has come to a crashing end, and that it is OK. He texts you, Hey. And in that moment you feel overjoyed, shocked, content as though that Hey was some kind of salvation, But you know nothing has changed and nothing more than what this is will ever come out of this. Ever. The high will simmer down into a low and I will have to sew myself back together again. Why am I like this.

If you suffer from depression and someone comes into your life and makes you feel whole by filling in the void and takes that hopelessness away, becomes the reason you smile and keep fighting the fight, are your feelings for this person inflated to be more than they really are? Perhaps, I don’t know. I just know that loving and being with him was the most profound experience of my life so far. It has been too much to bear. Some things eat away at you, this, devoured me whole.

I still feel that sensation of heat beneath my skin when we talk and the fact that he is never coming back seeps into conversation. Parts of me die.

I’ll keep writing about this until there is nothing left to say. The ego says what is wrong with you? let it go already, he didn’t deserve you, you’re better off. That may be true but why can’t I stop thinking about it and crying in the bus. I was someone before I met him. Why do I feel as though I have lost something so fundamentally supportive to my existence?

May and June 

I start realising that maybe this relationship is something that is not helping me grow as a woman, it is not nourishing my soul in the way a relationship should. It gives but also drains in tandem. Sure, we have fun, we are meshing into each other’s patterns, he makes me laugh and he is now showing me his vulnerable side, he is sharing more, I feel connected to every part of him but at the very end of the day, this transiency, this secret nature of the relationship makes me feel somewhat second class, like some exotic fun time before his mother finds him a perfect bride.  All I will have is the story.
 I am a plant that needs watering, we all are. He waters me on the surface, floods me infact but it’s all doused in consequence. I need to be watered from the root upwards, in essence I do not feel whole in this. I have to leave him. 

Towards the middle of May, I break up with him after I find out he had been deceitful when he said he loved me months ago, I gave him my virginity under falsehoods but he says that now he did end up falling in love with me. I never trust a word he says after this. I am still madly in love with him so I take him back and we continue, he tries by all means to atone. 

June comes round, because of certain religious issues we cannot meet as often but he even sacrifices just so he can see me. At this point I know he values my company and what we have. We are making the most of the little time we have together. We are even going out in public but I know I have to leave him. 

He had these fetishes that left me feeling like a sex object and I thought he would tire of it after a while but he did not. We do things for the people we love, I wanted to please and make him happy because I could never deny that man anything but this fetish left me feeling like trash, not valued or respected. Degraded. 

It was this side of him that I did not understand and in the end I could not separate the guy he was and this unsettling side of him. 

He was blind sided because he thought things were going great and that we would carry on until he departed the country but I could not go ONE MORE DAY with him and his fetishes.