There is air in my lungs still. I thought I would die but I didn’t. I crumbled. I crumble still. I ache and ache and wish for a sweeter breath. A more vivid tomorrow. I have been hopeful, full of despair, self destructive, fearful and peaceful. I have been these things all in the same breath.
I have stopped searching for answers perhaps just truths. I am weary but steadfast.
I am heartbroken and falling in love. I no longer shed tears for the thing that I wanted. I wanted him but it wasn’t meant to be. I tried. I lost myself, my faith, my self respect whilst on this frenzied mission to make him see my worth. My love was bloody, needy, sacrificial and intense. God I was too intense.
Its these ties, these bonds we cannot sever. I tried. The longest was 21 days and he crawled back. One of us always does. When we do, the reconnection is immediate, the excitement unbridled. He is on another continent but I can feel he is right here with me. What we have is cheap but profound. Paradoxical fuckery. He claims to still love me, those words have no effect on me now. However, he did make me cry by opening up the lid on closely shut memories from last year. I have never seen him talk like this before. He has never been this vulnerable. Why now?. It’s too late in the day.
The new man I have been seeing is a dream. He is the reason why I smile, he is the reason why I no longer wake up with this ominous feeling in my chest. He calmed it all, not by carefully managing my mental health, no. He did it by solely being present. He is mannered and loyal. He is everything I have ever dreamt of. Despite all his charm & perfection. I am betraying him, day by day. Its these ties we cannot sever. I am a woman. I have these slutty tendencies. I am slut. I can choke it down to my own insecurities and declare what I am engaging in isn’t legitimate cheating but I am a woman with a loving boyfriend and yet I cannot seem to cut ties with an old lover who is thousands of miles away but still I am in the wrong.
I don’t love my former boyfriend anymore. I stopped when I realised he had nothing to offer me. He would never sacrifice nor does he want to. You see, I am also a fool but I am not in a fool in love anymore. I just can’t let go. I have attempted to ascertain why? Maybe the familiar is so sweet. I don’t know but I do know that I have well and truly fallen from grace.
The day after tomorrow marks exactly 4 months since I made my big and permanent move to South Korea. I still can’t believe it. Sometimes when my eyes are closed, in bed or when I allow my mind to drift off for a few minutes I forget I am here and I feel as though I am back home for just a nanosecond and then I am reminded.
This new city is overwhelming, the immensity of it. The vibrancy. The isolation. I lived in a small town for 3 months when I first arrived I threw myself into the heart of it all. The belly of the beast. My former roommates made me feel like shit, they told me they were getting a place of their own and that I should think about finding somewhere else, I was left in a state of shock. How could they. I gave them a week’s notice, they treated me as the bad guy. I stuck to my guns and left.
My now boyfriend helped me look for another place to live and then helped me move. We had known each other for only month then. There was just osomething about him from day 1, something about his spirit. On our first date, the most memorable day. He took me to various places, it felt like a dream. He is the old fashioned type, believes in taking a woman out to proper restaurants and he is no stranger to all those romantics gestures that a girl like me could only imagine only happens in those korean dramas. He is gentle in his speech, character and touch. Treats me like a princess and thinks of me in such high regard. He is simply amazing. It makes me cry when I think about just how good he is. We’ve been seeing each other for 2 and a half months. He talks about things in the long-term & that from a man was a foreign thing to me since my dickhead of an ex is the complete opposite.
I am however, still entangled and in embarrassingly and pathetically in love with and addicted to my ex. I recently just cut all contact with him for the umpteenth time. He lied when we were in the process of rekindling things. He was talking to some girl he met online months ago but all the while feeding me lies. I wonder which one of us will crawl back first.
So I’m finally settled in the apartment I share with 2 other girls, they are lovely. A bit on the partying, extroverted side but they are okay. This is my third week here and perhaps it is because of my period that I am feeling this way, maybe it’s the fact that after two weeks the idea of lying idle, enjoying snacks and taking walks isn’t at all that relaxing anymore. Suppose it’s the anxiety surrounding the fact that I will be working soon, paying rent and supporting myself. I have never really worked in the sense of having a full time paying job, just random gigs.
I also miss my family dearly, I miss my bed and my mum’s reassuring talks, my dad’s walk, and my brother and I’s inside jokes. Most of all, I miss that feeling of belonging, to have a right to sit in that chair, a solid right to sit on that lawn because it was my home. I feel like a visitor, an intruder. It’s happening again, I can feel it. The darkening, the panic ridden moments, minutes and days. The terror in the morning, the wanting to crawl outside of the body but can’t. The desperation where I vest all my will to live in him. His attention wavers, I collapse into a heap. There has been no reassurance from him, just fights and I threatened to walk away he said Go. I did and came back. I need him. I need that feeling of not being alone. It’s all a coping mechanism but I need it for as long as I can extract it.
I am so down.
It’s night 3 in this foreign land. Tonight, I don’t feel well. Parts of me still think I am home but when I look outside and walk these pavements and look up at these bright fucking lights, I am reminded that I am so far from home and no matter how homesick I get, I have to toughen up. There is no option.
When I got here, my emotions were still blocked. 3 planes, Culture shock. Nobody could pick me up from the airport and I had to navigate my way at night. When I got here and I was so underwhelmed by what I saw and the place I would be living in. I deflated and felt like I was imposing. I felt this instant regret and I realised the magnitude of the decision I had made. He then called me, my boyfriend or whatever I can call him now, he called and we spoke for almost an hour and that calmed me tremendously. He is the antidote. The next day we skyped constantly and then this morning we spoke for an hour. Today he was busy and could not talk and then we had a fight, I sunk to these depths… Jesus fucking Christmas. Why.
I am in this tiny bedroom, sleeping on a mattress without a base. I have enough money to go on for a while but I need a job soon. The girl I am living with came to grab me so me, her and her former dodgy male boss could take us to dinner. This, I found vaguely weird.
The statement “a new life” used to fill me up with such joy but I find myself dreading it at the same time. How can I start a new life when parts of me are still longing and wishing for things that have long passed and will never be. That boy remained with parts of me that I will never be able to take back. I feel as though something has been drained from my spine when he is absent. Do I move forward with these gaping holes in my being and accept that this is who I am now. Is it okay. Is that how it works.
I have been on zero contact with him for 48 hours. Yesterday felt a little like death, the without is always crippling. I shed some tears for the thing I don’t need but want and can’t have. I am hurting, I think of him every waking moment, my mind always reverts back to him. Getting teary eyed when shopping with my mother, laughing and then remebering him then choking on the lump in my throat.
In the midst of all this I am however at peace, my mind isn’t wondering about were I am currently placed in the map or order of his life. Am I still top order, middle order or low order. I want to let go with grace.
I have always ached for distant places as I have always felt trapped by geography.
It’s the environment I am in, I would say to myself. If I leave I will find it, whatever it is.
He came along and I stopped wanting. I found it possible to find my happiness and home in the confines of this small town. I thought I had made a breakthrough, why go halfway across the world in search of something, in search of inner peace, happiness and completeness if it’s here. I made a home in his eyes and his warm skin, my delusions have no limits. I stopped running away from myself when he was with me. That is why I never left in the beginning. Clinging on to that euphoria in the hope that things would change and bloom more than the current. The flowers never bloomed some more, I wilted and left.
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.
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.