Dance Partners

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We are dance partners; yet we have never met.

We skit and flirt at the lowest of times and decide if we will ever meet for real.

I toy with the likelihood of our paths crossing ever happening. Who it will affect most, what impact it would have. If assumptions will be made. Assumptions are made to soften our own inability to comprehend the incomprehensible.

It’s on the rise, ‘they’ will say. They were always too emotional, too weak, too sensitive, as if it was bound to happen one day. It’s a trend, it’s the rise of the internet, it’s the pressure of modern day living, they were damaged, they were too much of a thinker, an analyser, a middle child. Labels without value.

You are always the last resort, the back-up plan, you’re supposed to be a comfort; to know there is an out, a final point, a conclusion to the circus of thoughts in my mind.

Yet I cannot be that desperate, as we have not yet met. I think of those it would hurt the most and I don’t want to be responsible for causing such pain, some would never heal. I think secretly some would be relieved, as if they didn’t know what to do with me in the first place and therefore, they are freed from the burden. There is also a dark part of me that thinks it would teach some a lesson. How awful of me. Such deep shame.

In some ways I crave the peace you would give me, a serenity that I have not found, yet. Though I know there are other options, a grey area in the middle. I know what would be advised, decisions to make, changes to implement, but they would involve a strength and energy that I don’t know if I have left, or can even muster.

So, nothing has happened, as yet. We meet once in a while, continue our dance, we toy with the notions, the ideas, the likelihood. Mostly you disappear fast and let me carry on as I am. Until the next time. Then it all begins again.

Mr Right

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I think about him all the time. I spiral into thoughts of ‘what if we were together?’. I tease myself for a while until I pull out of my reverie as I know building a fantasy in my head leads to heartache. I knew I liked him a while ago but I had already decided to leave and move home. What’s the point in getting involved with someone before I leave right? I’m not looking for a long-distance relationship. So we stayed friends and I kept my feelings to myself.

I had a great farewell but feel as though I missed an opportunity to say a proper goodbye to him.

Would I be missing him so much if there was someone here for me? If there was someone who caught my eye and occupied my time and attention like my thoughts for him do. If so, would I even think of him again as more than a good friend?

Lost in another daydream I wonder if he feels the same way. Going over previous conversations, messages and interactions I start analysing if I had already started building my fantasy back then. Were some of the moments we had as special for him as they were for me? What if I wasn’t so closed off. What if I had let him in? Where would our friendship be now?

I get a text. It’s him. My heart skips a beat. He mentions he had a soft spot for me. That’s all the confirmation I needed. I wasn’t imagining it. I’m glowing.

Now what? Do I continue to tease myself and go down the road of seeing where it goes in the hope he might move here one day or do I get on with my new life and be open to someone new. Do I want him just because I can’t have him? I’m tired with the questions that roll around in my mind and the pangs in my heart that yearn to be with someone. I wish I had Dumbledore’s pensive to drop my thoughts and emotions into. Hello, feelfivefundred. I release the endless questions, encounters and mind chatter, take a step back and watch them swirl.
There’s been a shift.
I can breathe again.

Days pass and the communication between us stops. I’m actually OK with this and he is obviously getting on with his life, as I am with mine. The obsession has subsided for now. I’m tired of my head games. Why do I make this so hard on myself? Why am I finding falling in love again so hard? Others make it look so easy.

I reflect on my newly discovered identity (my true Self) and realise that I’m better than these head games. I’m beautiful. I’m courageous. I’m confident. I’m creative. I have faith that if I continue to be Myself, I will find love with someone equally as worthy.

I’m here Mr Right. I’m ready.

Isolation

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To be alone, even when you’re not. To be trapped, even when you have choices. To be happy with your own company, even when it’s not sustainable.

Fireworks, friends, drinks. All the things happening outside of this space, the quiet and tranquil space I am occupying – of my choice. How times are different. Different, but somewhat the same. The same more recently, but vastly different from before. Development, change, metamorphosis. The process of change: adjust behaviours, adjust surroundings, adjust mentality. The problem: society.

Society believes in fun, reward, quantity. The society I am living in does, anyway.

Everywhere I look there are reminders of unfulfilled people trying to live fulfilled lives, but what they are is deluded and confused, not knowing what they don’t know. Not knowing that searching [aimlessly] and avoiding [pain] are causing damage to the unconscious anxieties. Not knowing that boundaries are stable, and boredom is progression, and routine is freedom. How dare you break free from us? How dare you demand difference? ‘You must enjoy life, you must be with people, you must be out.’ Well, to enjoy is in moderation, to be with people is to be understood, to be out is when it’s worthy.

To tell you “I am good” is telling you nothing at all. To accept it is showing me nothing. I might as well be confirming nothing but my existence unless you probe further or give me more. Shake me, awake me, tell me how you feel. Tell me anything; how you hate being the new girl at work, how you and your partner want to have a child soon, how you’re troubled in work, how you had a bad day, a great day, anything more than nothing.

You hear me talk but you don’t acknowledge what I’m saying. You heard me, I know you did because you asked a related question. Why can’t you acknowledge what I said? I know you care, you show me in other ways. But why can’t you acknowledge what I am saying now? Is it because it’s too foreign? Too far from where you wanted me to be? Too confronting for your own denial? Can you not feel my hurt? My confusion? Can you not tell I am standing here showing you the world I dreamt for myself isn’t here, that you dreamt for me? Why can’t you ask me how I am doing, with depth, with meaning, with force, with love? Ask me, even at all? You hear me talk, but you cannot respond. Not in the way I need, want, thought I had. It makes it clearer why I never told you anything, because you couldn’t respond the way I needed.

I am loved, I am surrounded, I am here. But, as I shake the earth I see who withstands the force; the structures of reliability tremor and I’m left to navigate the ruins. Searching for cover and somewhere firm to stand, with only few to console me, truly.

 

 

Losing Friendship

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I’m mad at you for not seeing me. You couldn’t see that I was changing. You couldn’t accept I wanted it, you only blamed someone else. You only saw someone else, you only saw him changing. But you couldn’t see it was me.

We had everything. We were everything. You could tell me things, and I could tell you things. We were everything. But, somewhere we got lost. I outgrew you as you got more lost. I was lost and you held me up. You caught me and knew how not to yell at me for you knew I would retreat. I betrayed you and you still stood by me and waited for me and let me understand for myself why I was broken, instead of convicting me for it. But then you stopped and you yelled at me and accused me. Telling me it would be a long way to fall. I had already fallen, babe. I had already fallen and you were there. You were there to catch me but this time you didn’t, you couldn’t. You couldn’t see that I was changing. I am only going up now and you are not ready to follow. You are not ready to follow because you haven’t fallen. You are lost, but you haven’t fallen. You still have your dignity, your pride, your skin. You still have it.

One day we will be together again, but my time has run out now. My time has run out and I can no longer be loyal to those who are doing nothing. Those who are still lost. And especially those who cannot see me, and who yell at me and tell me what to do. You became that. You became the person who yelled at me and instructed me on how I should behave. You couldn’t see me for what I wanted or how much I wanted change, needed change. I was just existing, just existing in the same old world of nothingness and emptiness. But most importantly you couldn’t see me anymore. You couldn’t tell I was different. Or maybe, maybe you didn’t want to. Or maybe, maybe you couldn’t because you can’t. You don’t get it. You don’t get it because you haven’t fallen and you don’t get it because you just don’t see what I see. I don’t believe that though, because we always use to see the same? So I just don’t know what happened, what changed? Why did you yell at me?

Are you afraid I am changing for him, because of your own past mishaps? What does it matter anyway, if he is helping me better? I am with him and I am changing, but I am not changing for him. I am changing for me, because I need this. I need this so badly for myself. He just happens to be there helping.

I wish you didn’t yell at me for I wanted you to come. But you can’t, not until you’re ready.

Why We Can’t ‘Do Dinner’

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I’m sorry we can’t have dinner. No, it’s nothing you have done. You don’t see what I see anymore. Well, I don’t see what you see. I see clearer now and what I see in that world is nothingness.

We can’t have dinner because I am more disciplined with my time. We can’t have dinner because you do drugs. We can’t have dinner because you were there when I was not me, and you represent everything in that world. We can’t have dinner because you’re leaving – that’s not an excuse to meet up and eat food and talk about how well I’m doing at making a change and how much you’re looking forward to going home. I already know that, so why do we need to meet and confirm it? I know you’re going to ask me about everything too; everyone is asking, wondering, what the hell I am playing at? You’re worried and that’s nice, but don’t be. Worry about yourself. We can’t have dinner because if we did I wouldn’t be changing. You would be sucking me back into the meaningless that I am trying to escape. We can’t have dinner because I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to see the version of you that smiles at me when I arrive and asks me if I had a good day. Those things are normal, I know. But it’s the weight behind it that isn’t. Why don’t you look at me as if I can rely on you, lean on you, be supported by you. It sounds irrational but it’s only reflective of how little you know and can handle. Why can’t you write me an email? Why can’t you tell me you’re hurting because your boyfriend isn’t good enough but you hurt because you wanted him. Why can’t you ask me how counselling is going?

Yes, you asked me for a walk instead. That’s better than dinner, you’re correct. But I still don’t have time. I still don’t have time for you if you can’t tell me something real. Tell me something real, I beg you. I know you’re good inside, I know you are. I know you’re just as sensitive as I am, just as lost as I was, just trying to get by. I know because you helped me get there. You helped me lose myself and at the time it was what I wanted, how I coped, but I can’t do it anymore. Ask me something real so that I can let you back in. I know you’re good and I wish you well. But please see someone. Please see someone so you can understand why you’re doing all these things, and so someday we can be friends again. I love you, but farewell.