(Untitled)

The key to forgetting,
Someone said,
Was to start small
Like your keys, your library books

To stop making associations
Like the way you smell
That song you loved
Your favorite term of endearment

Lie (to myself)
I will see you again, Its not really over
We would have been great together
(And to you) I hate you

Throw away the random things
That we made together
That business card, the red dragon tissues
The newspaper we read on Sunday

Then to get to the point of forgetting
To stop seeing you everywhere
To spend a few idle moments,
Without caressing you with my thoughts

My cardboard boxes are packed
I await the empty space
That comes with forgetting
The way you loved me

*With apologies to Thoughtspotting

*some text missing*

I've been thinking of what to say to you, that will make sense for us. I want to tell you that I miss you, and that I really want to see you again, but the professional help I'm finally getting tells me that this is just a delusion. Apparently all this turmoil and pain inside me isn't real, its just my part in a play, the script for which was embedded in my sub-conscious when I was a child. A play in which you must break my heart and I must let you, just like I've let it happen a hundred times before, when the only thing that changed was the person playing your part. Except this time I mustn't.

I want to tell you how much I loved touching you, how much I loved falling asleep with you curled up around me and waking up knowing you would still be holding me. The way you'd kiss my fingers. I so want to call you, to ask you how the move went, how you like the new city, what the shop looks like and how much he's messed it up. To tease you about how badly your country is playing in the World Cup. I want to tell you that though I say its too late, I'm really hoping it isn't, that you still want to fight for us. That I hate that we can't talk to each other anymore. That though they say what I feel for you isn't real, that its just a result of my childhood trauma and self destructive nature, I am screaming for you on the inside.

But I can't say anything to you, not until I'm no longer broken. So even though I pick up my phone a hundred times a day to reply to your message, I won't.

You were right though, we would have been great.

Frankly Scarlet, I Don't Give a Damn

I should be upset, but I am strangely relieved. The thing is, I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure that what they had said was true, I wasn't sure that I was making the right decision, I wasn't sure that they were right about you.

And then you left, for the very reason that I was afraid you would, for the reason that they said you would, for the reason that you know is the nameless terror that doesn't let me sleep at night.

And I can't stop laughing, because despite everything you said you were, everything you said we were, all the times you lamented the other men in my life who had done terrible things to me, despite how much you said you would never hurt me, you're just the like the rest of them.

So now I'm sure. And no matter what changes, even if I am no longer broken on the inside anymore, you and I are done.

*GRIN*

The Leap, to Death

Why do men have to lie?

I have always trusted the men in my life, simply because I believe that attempting a relationship without that basic element in place is stupid. If you can't trust the person you're with you're going to be miserable, and so its not worth being with them at all. And this worked very well for me, I had numerous relationships where I was never plagued by the stress of having to worry about what my partner wasn't telling me. I believed that I was being told everything relevant. Until of course I discovered that I wasn't.

Being on the receiving end of that kind of dishonesty is heartbreaking. God it is so painful you want to rip your heart out and set it on fire just to make the pain stop. It isn't the infidelity as much as the knowledge that something you gave your heart and soul to was a lie. That every time you smiled at the person sharing your life they were smiling at someone else in exactly the same way, that the love which enveloped you and made you believe you were a part of something magical was just a ruse to trick you into letting your guard down. That the time you spent curled up together, speaking softly late into the night, fingers entwined, your heart bursting with the intensity of your feelings for each other was just a hollow pretense, tainted by their absolute disrespect for something that should have been sacred. That the way your heart would leap at the thought of seeing them and touching them was a farce, it was just you being a fool in love with someone who was pretending they felt the same way. The emotion, the feeling, the promises that you make to someone you are in a relationship with should be sacrosanct. They should be pure and unsullied by the sordidness of lies and deception and sexual gratification. And when you find out it wasn't it kills you, slowly, piece by piece by you can feel yourself dying inside. And you can never trust the way you used to. That's the worst part of being lied to by someone you trusted completely, you are cursed to a lifetime of wondering if you are being made a fool of again.

I have never felt this kind of panic, never felt this lost or used or swamped by a nameless terror. I have no proof that I'm being lied to again, all I have are the smallest rumours, and I find myself cold and shaking with fear. I am terrified that I am going to have to go through that hell one more time and the thought makes me want to curl up and cry my heart out. The way I refused to do the first time it happened. This time will be so much worse.

Blah Blah Blah

I have spent a lot of time with myself of late, trying to figure out a good way to deal with some of the issues that are crippling me right now. What have I realised? I don't need time with myself, I need time away from myself. Of course this realisation has come at a ridiculously inconvenient time. I have exams starting very shortly, which means that I will have to spend even more time with just me and Maroon 5. A situation that is not conducive to life changingness, let me tell you.

So anyway, I did what any mature adult would do and booked a flight to see my girlfriends for a weekend. Three days before my first exam. I am in so much trouble. Six feet from the edge and all that. I don't care though. I know, or rather hope, that at some point I will start to care again and then I will feel very stupid.

If only real life came with a reboot option. I suppose if you believe in rebirth and all that it does. Blah I say, Blah.

Afraid of the Colour Blue

You didn't just kiss my lips
I felt you breathe
Against my heart
And from that moment
I belonged to you

And nothing has changed
Even though you've left
You're still here
My heart still trembles
When I think of your kisses


*An attempt, at a love poem. Alright, a rather amateur attempt at a love poem.

Too Strange to Title

I have always known that I was not the most ummm, emotionally balanced person. I have crazy mood swings, am often crippled by sudden, inexplicable terror and driven by irrational and obsessive emotions. This has been a problem of course, but having developed my psychosis at a young age I also managed to develop great strength of will, so as to keep myself under control and my insanity a secret from everyone. I have gotten so good at it, that I managed even to fool myself.

This last year, 2009 was not a good one. Many things happened that were traumatic and disturbing, though I have no wish to go into the details, even just with myself. However, I managed to keep it together ("with a little help from my friends", without whom I would have killed myself years ago. This is a tangent and a rather random one, but these people, in my life who love me despite how terrible I often am at being their friend, I could never frame the words to explain what they mean to me. Which is rather depressing as I believe I am a writer.) and as the New Year progressed I felt that things had stabilized. I even managed to convince myself that some of my more serious obsessions were in fact harmless, that I was taking only a brief hiatus from the world of the living and the thinking and as soon as I got myself together I would be back out there, as happy as I have always been.

Late in the year 2009 I became single for the first time since I was sixteen. I told everyone, and myself, that having jumped the sinking ship that was my last relationship, I had no desire to see what else was swimming in the sea with me. Almost a decade of near constant boyfriends had given me a craving for the single life, and perhaps I would emerge on the other side of it with an ability to fall in love with something other than scum.

It turns out that was all an elaborate lie. I don't mean that I am desperate to find a boyfriend and can't stand being alone (Oh I'm not saying I'm not lonely, having been 'with' someone for most of my adult life I find it very difficult to adjust to a 'single' mind frame, though I think that its just a matter of practice) I find now that I am terrified of starting a new relationship. I am, for the first time since I was fifteen, scared of boys. Of talking to them, of saying the wrong thing, of making a move or taking the next step. And I have met a few lovely men who I believe, in the calm, safe moments in front of my computer, would have been incredible to have in my life. But when they are standing in front of me, asking me to have dinner with them I feel an inexplicable urge to run. And then I do.

Today, I was faced with a poignant wake up call (in a rather becoming blue t-shirt) and it occurred to me that I was in fact, completely mental. I seem to have left the world of reason, of even caring for the concept of reason, far behind me. And I know that I could sort it out, but I don't seem to want to. If I take a step back, and try to analyse why it is that I am losing my mind, the image wont stay still. It will twist and shimmer and dart around, not wanting to be scrutinised. I am not sure what it is, that my subconscious has so determinedly repressed and why it is so afraid of my trying to dig it up. But I am afraid too. It must be really terrible.

My apologies for the rant.