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.
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.
I have blocked so many scenes from the past few days. Only now is it starting to trickle in and it’s making me emotional. My dad cried, My brother too. My mother remained close lipped, trying to be strong and I wish I had stared at her more and took her in. There is no perfect goodbye, no hug tight enough, its all like sand. I keep picturing my parents and brother standing at the lines near the check in point as I looked back to wave goodbye, the light blinding me, I could not see their faces as I made my and kept looking backwards, only saw silhouettes. The Curl of my mother’s hair, the tallness of my father, my chubby sweet sweet brother. Handing in my boarding pass, I looked back and waved goodbye till I disappeared into the unknown.
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 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.
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.
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.