“I love you. I want to marry you and only you,”
I remember the first time I heard these words from him. My heart raced, my feet became weak and I could barely breathe. And therein came flashes of images of fat babies, a picket fence, a horse named Lucy along with my bestseller novels, packed on the top shelf of our home library. As fast as they came, they left, and with them the feeling that would have been love was nothing but pain. Because the man I was in love with, was saying this to another. Coming home to kiss my cheek and share a meal. Before embarking on what he so shamelessly calls “love making”. Then up and going early in the morning, with me on the sides, helping him, dutifully, and he said that to another.
The best lies carry an element of truth.
Neil Caphrey, White Collar Series
Upon reminiscence, I realized I brought this upon myself. A man, my friends now so wisely tell me, will treat you the way you let him. And I put myself out as available for all manner of usage and he only accepted an offer even I would never refuse. He will only go as far as you let him so the second the violent caress did not chase me away he felt it proper to do it again and again.
Dreams are beautiful, unless they are shattered. Then they are seemingly ugly sources of every ill feeling one can think of. But they are not as shattered glass that cannot be fixed. They with near-magical stride always have a way of getting back on their feet or even higher because it is in our hearts that they are bred, and the heart does not falter. It grows. Especially one that dares to dream.
I had put my dream onhold for someone I felt needed me. I thought it would give me a different purpose and for days upon end I was a lost soul drifting aimlessly to inevitable demise unless I went back to whatever drove me to the person I am. Writing.
I cleaned, cooked, washed and listened and rubbed. And all I got in return, was spite, violent caress and
I got up and left.
Upon declaration of departure my knees weakened and I knew then that it was going to be the hardest thing to do. I stayed, telling myself that he is out of my league when all the while I am out of HIS league. I am phenomenal and cannot stop with how far I have come. It takes baby steps. That is a good thing because I have been taking those my whole life.
I start work Monday, from scratch. I am crashing with a friend. I start house hunting in two weeks. Suggestions around town are welcome.
It is the hardest thing to do, move on. Especially if what awaits you on the other side is debts, no home, angry folks and no school. All you have is yourself and whatever real friends you have around you. Friends unafraid to tell you the truth no matter how ugly it is. It took my friends laying down their hearts for me to realize by hurting me, I immensely do the same to them. It took long talks, monologues of just how phenomenal they deem my spirit to help me get off of my behind and do something, if not for myself, then so I don’t lose them.
A literary guru and a woman I idolize did say that we do things for the approval of men. We do. We dress up, we work hard to look amazingly fake. All for a man whose eyes are maybe set on another and in doing so, we fail ourselves. We fail our friends. We fail our very purpose.
So heavy with the wisdom my experience has bestowed upon me, I walked. It is scary. I cry every night thinking about my loss though my friends say I am better off. I veer off at work and I smoke twenty cancer sticks if only to keep euphoria beside me- if a head rush counts as one. But I will never look back.
Photo credit: Cieleke
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Living is a risk, as you stand to lose your life. Chasing dreams is deemed a waste, we chase money instead. But why preserve time you have no control over? So I chase my dreams praying time’s end finds me risk fully happy. Find more on her blog kimarinyokabi.blogspot.com