#i just. remind myself this cat has lived an amazing and spoiled life and eventually itll be time and i will have done his soul justice.

[justtogetthrough]

Honestly my cat seems sickly lately and it's stressing me out because we've never been able to diagnose 75% of the things wrong with him, and I'm also not willing to travel to see vet specialists. So I have no hope of being able to figure out what's wrong and I don't have good access to a vet to do so even if i wanted to, let alone not having the money to explore it.

I've been in a bad mood today and raging at my cats and I feel so bad about it, on top of worrying about his health.

For a long time I was chalking up his strange behaviour and appearance to the stress of moving but its not getting better. I haven't finished unpacking but we've been here for over 2 months now, he's a super adaptable cat who travels well so it doesn't make sense that this is a response to moving at this point. He has always settled into new spaces well.

I've been thinking about him dying lately and it makes me really sad. When I got him it was a toss up whether he'd be one of those indestructible barn cats who live to 20 or if he'd succumb young. He's 7.5 so we're kinda in the middle at this point. If he did die I don't know if I'd get a kitten or have my calico be an only cat. She's pretty high energy and I don't have the energy to play with her and so I feel obligated to ensure she has a mate. But thinking about this makes me sad and I don't want to deal with the reality that my orange might be fading slowly before my eyes.

In 2 weeks we're driving back to my old town for their annual/shots, they're not taking me off the roster until I can find a local vet taking on new patients (none currently are). But I certainly can't go back to explore anything because each visit would be a whole day affair to sedate him and drive 3 hours and what not. But the annual is with the vet who saw him for his first 5 years and I'm going to see what she thinks. His fur is very weird, it's ruffled all the time and greasy when he's always been velvety soft, and his spasms are getting worse and he's spooking frequently. He won't stay lying down/asleep if I get up from bed. Until he passes out from exhaustion, he's up and down and up and down. The spasms are something we've already looked at and my next option is a neurologist in Toronto and it's just... not in the cards.

I dont know what to do for him. Tomorrow I'm going to try building a tall cat tree for him. Maybe that's whats stressing him out, he hasn't had a high enough perch for 3 months? Idk. Tomorrow if I do nothing else, I need to build a cat tree and see if that settles him. I can't bear to see him like this.

#cw pet death #personal #my friend accidentally mentioned today that if i die they would happily take my calico #i was saying how if they ended up in a shelter theyd likely be put down to their age. shelters euthanize at 8 #but my orange is also aggressive and if i died and he was in a shelter i am 100% sure he'd bite someone right away #he'd get put down right away probably. not adoptable. but with his chronic health issues i cant see anyone wanting a sick & aggressive cat #so i just take comfort in that hes been such a love bug and hes had a very good life. full of love and cuddles #and thats when my friend mentioned my calico wouldnt make it to the shelter lawl my friend would take first dibs #which is a huge relief. part of planning my death has been trying to plan for my orange's care because hes... a burden. #idk i never wanted to get cats again bc i dont cope with loss well but they ended up in my lap and now here i am #i adore them am obsessed with them but my orange's mortality looms. every couple years im faced with whether he might need to be put down #maybe he'll pull through this like he always has but it hurts and im scared. #the beginning of covid in 2020 was the last death scare we had and it was so traumatizing with lock downs and uncertainty n shit #i just. remind myself this cat has lived an amazing and spoiled life and eventually itll be time and i will have done his soul justice.

[crimsun-n-clover]

i went to dollar tree today

i was going for craft shit. i keep getting rejected for all the delivery jobs i want so i’m trying to make silly little things that i could sell.

i like dollar tree because it makes me feel like there’s hope. i see things and design my trailer in my head. i pick which mugs i’ll use with my coffee maker, which wildflowers i’d plant outside, and which little trinkets i’d get for the kiddos.

i have a whole family of stray cats that i love ever so dearly. usually i can’t get close to them, but i feed them, bring them water, and talk to them in the hope that it improves their lives.

when i left dollar tree, i went around the back of the building because of where i was parked.

(this isn’t the dollar tree i went to last time, because at that one i dealt with the HORROR of seeing sugar’s sister employed there. by horrid chance i had just gotten a utility knife off the shelf there to carry with me in my battle vest, so if any rumors go around about homicidal intent that’s where that shit came from.)

when i went to the back i found a scrawny little black cat and threw out a handful of treats. he ate them up and i parked to get a can of the good wet food. the cat straight up walked over to me like we were friends. i gave him the food and he let me pet him, talk to him, play with him, all that. he has a scratchy little meow and he’s so fun. he was weaving between my legs and climbing all over me, purring and making biscuits. if i walked away, he would follow me. it was amazing. i made a new friend. he had bald spots and scars, as well as an ear notch, but he wasn’t neutered so it was definitely from a fight. he’s such a sweetheart and would roll over and lay on his back and paw at me.

i felt like a monster leaving him.

his name is ronnie and i will now dedicate myself to moving out so i can bring him home. he looks so sick and sad, but he’s so sweet and full of life. he only ate half of the can of tuna and gravy i gave him he’s so LITTLE. i can’t stand to leave him out there in the florida heat and constant floods, but i know i can’t bring him home.

my mom would absolutely kill me, my dad would question how i got him (and hanging out behind buildings is apparently not good), my bastard quarantine dog would eat him alive, and my spoiled sweet baby cat would be so jealous that he’d lose his absolute shit.

so instead of having four things in the way, i’m cool with just the one. i think ronnie and my boy would get along fine. they both are weirdly shaped black cats with green eyes that i found as baby ferals. they’re both affectionate and have silly little meows. i’m sure they’d be fine eventually.

ronnie being a stray is a bit of a problem. he’s not safe and i want him to be safe, but he’s in a really scary part of town for an animal or human. bears n heroin n all that mess. he’s probably covered in fleas and has ringworm or some shit, so i’d have to get him vet care before i could take him home, and there’s no way i can convince my parents. well, maybe my dad, but i’m not going through him for shit. and he’s so over protective of me that he’ll lose his mind about me trying to socialize ferals in bad areas.

my dad got one of his cats the same way. he was playing a bar show and met a stray in the parking lot that let him pet it and weaved between his legs, and he told his band that if the cat was still there after the set, he’d take it home. he was kinda joking, but when the cat was still there, he took it in.

hell, my dad was selling drugs at my age. get over yourself steven. your carbon copy lesbian bastard child is entitled to a little bit of tomfuckery. i’m not even doing anything wrong by normal person standards, my parents are just strict.

sometimes i’ll say something about being a bad person, but then my last remaining best friend will remind me that i found two baby raccoons in a walmart parking lot, fed them, named them, and now try to go check on them regularly. it’s just what i do.

i’m sure i’m the reincarnated motherfucker that found a wolf and just decided “yeah okay you can bite me a little bit because we’re besties now. what do you wanna eat sweetheart i have chicken and all that. yes you can have my entire bed. i sleep on the floor sometimes anyway.”

241 more days of lying, planning, suffering, and waiting to bring ronnie home.

[bugheadfamily]

Bughead Family Discord Member Spotlight

This week the spotlight is on Mari ( @writeraquamarinara )! Click the read more link below to get to know our member!

Spotlight by Mila, @jughead-jones | Graphic by Katie, @betty-cooper

Mari | @writeraquamarinara

Name: Mari

Age: 18

Location: Montreal, QC.

Any other languages aside from English people can contact you in?: Italian.

Favourite Riverdale characters and ships?: Betty, Jughead, Pop, Fred, Mary, Kevin, Joaquin, Bughead, Joavin, and Choni.

Favourite moments from S1 & S2?: The scene that got me hooked to the show was when Reggie questioned Jughead about killing Jason, and he replied with a snarky little “It’s called necrophilia, Reggie. Can you spell it?” Other favorite moments are pretty much any Bughead scene from S1, but especially their first kiss. I had been shipping them together since the Blue and Gold scene in 1x03, but 1x06 really hit me hard. They’re both two broken kids who find solace in each other. As someone whose mother is all too similar to Alice Cooper, hearing Jughead tell Betty that they aren’t their parents made me so emotional. I rewatched that scene on repeat when the clip came out on Youtube the next day. To this day I can’t listen to Emily Afton’s Lost without crying. I also really love the hug from 1x13 after Betty, Veronica, and Archie go to Southside High for Juggie. S2 favorite moments are also only Bughead scenes, but not all Bughead scenes, if you catch my drift.

What are your hopes for S3?: Are a coherent plotline and consistent characterization too much to ask for? Also maybe have the parents on the show (other than Archie’s) actually respect their children and treat them well, but that’s never going to happen. On a more realistic note, I’m hoping to watch some fun interactions between Josie and Kevin now that they’re going to be step-siblings.

Other fandoms you’re into?: I don’t really have an online presence in other fandoms, but I do love to geek out over Percy Jackson, That 70s Show (specifically JackiexHyde), The Office, Parks and Rec, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and nearly all of the Marvel movies.

What are some of your favourite movies/TV?: As I mentioned: That 70s Show, The Office, Parks and Rec, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and Marvel. I’m currently bingeing The Good Place and The Mindy Project. I also went to watch Crazy Rich Asians in theaters and loved it. So basically I’m trash for rom and com. Sue me. (Or don’t. I’m a broke college student who can’t afford that ish.)

Favourite books?: The Book Thief, The Color Purple, Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America’s Shining Women, Pride and Prejudice, and, most of all, The Glass Castle.

Favourite bands/musicians?: Nina Simone, Alicia Keys, ABBA, Of Monsters and Men, Christina Perri, and Imagine Dragons. 

If you could live in any fictional world which one would you choose and why?: I thought a lot about this question. The obvious answer would be “one with magic, or mermaids, or superheroes”. But then I thought that I’d rather live in a world like ours, more realistic, but where women are equal to men, diversity is celebrated, people accept each other for who they are. That’s a very idealistic world, I realize, and (if my preteen love of dystopian novels has taught me anything) one that’s most definitely unattainable, but it’s still nice to think about it. If anyone knows of a fictional world like that, sign me up.

Favourite food?: Gosh, that’s a hard one. Probably my grandma’s lasagna.

Favourite season?: Fall, definitely. It’s my birthday season, and I love the colorful leaves and breezy weather and going apple-picking with my family and friends. Unfortunately, Canada’s fall doesn’t last much more than a day, so I missed out on all that this year.

Favourite plant?: Nelumbo nucifera, aka the Lotus Flower.

Favourite scent?: Aftershave? Weird, I know, but it reminds me of my childhood and my father.

Favourite colour?: Periwinkle.

Favourite animal?: Hummingbird.

Are you a night owl, an early bird, or a vampire?: Night owl, definitely.

Place you want to visit?: The Alhambra Palace in Granada, Spain, the Jameh Mosque of Isfahan in Iran, and Ryoanji in Japan.

Do you have pets? If you do, tell us a little about them: I don’t have any pets that live with me currently, but I’ve got a pet back home with my parents. She’s a rescued pup from Mississippi, probably some kind of mix between a Pointer and a Labrador Retriever. Her name’s Sassy and she’s super energetic. If you had asked me this question a week ago I would’ve also said I had a cat named Puma but he was twelve and had cancer, so…yeah.

Tell us a little about yourself?: Um, I never really know what to say to that question. Like, what do you really want to know? I’m Mari (the name comes from my AO3/tumblr username, and not my real name). I was born in New Jersey, grew up in New York and Italy, now go to university in Montreal. I’m super passionate about art history, women’s rights, and politics. I hope to be a dermatologist, but honestly, who knows where life will take me. I’m the oldest of four and the first in my family to go through the American school system, so my parents have always referred to me as their “guinea pig”, and that totally hasn’t given me a weird obsession with being the perfect child, perfect student, perfect daughter. For some very obvious reasons, I relate way too much to Betty Cooper.

Fun or weird fact about you?: I fenced competitively for eight years of my life, traveling all around the US and to Europe for training and national competitions, including the Junior Olympics.

Asks for fanfic authors:

How long have you been writing?: I’ve been writing since I was little, but they were always stories with original characters. I didn’t start writing fic until I was sixteen, nearly seventeen, so it’s been a little over a year.

Which is your favourite of the fics you’ve written?: Geez, that’s a tough one. As much as I love my little one shots, I’d have to say Little Talks. It’s largely based on my own high school experience, and therefore my own way of coming to terms with the end of that chapter of my life.

Favourite fic/chapter/plot-point/character you’ve ever written?: Oof. Another tough one. Um, I’d have to say that I really love my characterization of Alice in Blue Sunshine and Golden Rain. She’s a villainess, but hopefully one you love to hate.

Which was the hardest to write, and why?: Again, Blue Sunshine and Golden Rain. I have a bit of a plot twist planned for the story, but I’m really not sure what kind of reception it’s going to get from readers, so I’ve had the chapter half-finished for months. I just need to get the motivation to finish it, and the courage to say “I don’t care if people hate this, or think it’s weird.” I’ll get there eventually.

How do you come up with the ideas for you fic(s)? (examples: Do you draw inspiration from real life? Listen to music? Get inspired by TV/movies?) Do you have an process to your writing?: I’ve answered this in a tumblr ask before, but I get inspiration from anywhere and everywhere. Mainly from real life, because I like to observe and speculate and ask a bunch of “what if”s and go from there. So, like I mentioned, Little Talks is largely based on my life. But there are definitely some plot points in the story that are a result of me going “well, what if I had done this? Or he had done that?” Another example of a real life-inspired fic is my oneshot I <3 You, which was inspired by that instastory (Cole or Lili’s? I can’t remember) of a cake with bright orange frosting that spelled out I <3 You. I also take inspiration from other creative works, such as books or movies. One of my many upcoming fics is based on How To Train Your Dragon, and another is a crackfic based on the Suite Life. Other times, fic ideas come to me out of nowhere. I was in the lab last summer, waiting for my breast cancer tumor slides to go through antigen retrieval, when I came up with the idea for Blue Sunshine and Golden Rain. My brain works in very strange ways.

Idea that you always wanted to write?: I’ve always wanted to write a lot of fics (I have a whole list of them), but they’re in the works so I won’t spoil any more than I already have. The main fic that I don’t even have an idea for but just want to write is a heartbreakingly angsty fic. One that makes me cry while I write it. Here’s hoping it comes to me soon, because I feel like that could be a really interesting experience as a writer.

Favourite character to write?: Alice. Which is strange, because I don’t like her in the show, but there are so many different directions you could take her character that she’s always so interesting to me.

Best comment/review you’ve ever received?: Oh, well, all of them? Is that an answer? Because all comments and reviews make me super happy. But if I had to choose one then I’d say any comment from @earthlaughsinflowers, @mothermaple, @dottie-wan-kenobi, or @notanotherotherone. I kind of cheated by not picking one, exactly, but oh well.

Best and worst parts of being a writer?: The best part of being a writer is putting a story that you put a lot of your soul into and getting support and love for it. Because I only put stories out there that I’m happy to write, happy to read, but to see that they make other people happy, too? That’s an amazing feeling. The worst part is the amount of time it takes to do absolutely anything, especially when you’re not in the right headspace to write. When I’ve had the worst week ever, and I have to physically push myself to spend time that should be spent resting to write because an update needs to come out soon, it goes from being a fun hobby to being a stress-inducing chore.

Do you have any advice to offer?: I haven’t been a fic writer for a long time, so I wouldn’t say that I’m going to offer up the wisest advice, but here’s what I’ve garnered so far: Do what makes you happy. That goes for all of life, not just writing, and is often hard to follow, but here’s how I see it: If you want to write a story because it makes you happy, write it. If you want to quit your WIP to start something else because that makes you happy, do it. If you need to take a break from writing altogether because it’ll make you happier, take it. Write what you want to write, at the pace you want to write it, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

.

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This is the twelfth instalment of Bughead Family’s Member Spotlight series. Each week, a member’s url is selected through a randomizer and they will be featured in a spotlight post. In order to participate, please join the Bughead Discord (more information found here). Thank you.

#bughead #riverdale #bughead fanfiction #member spotlight #bughead family discord

[boo-yu]

Diary

Don’t remember when did I purchase the audiobook 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos, but since it’s available, why not listen to it. So I listened the book this weekend while driving. 

It is fascinating, and I wished I had listened to it sooner. But I doubt it will help me just because the perspectives would be different. 

Here are the 12 rules: 

1 Stand up straight with your shoulders straight 

2 Treat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping

3 Befriend people who want the best for you

4 Compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not the useless person you are today 

5 Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them 

6 Set your house in order before you criticize the world 

7 Pursue what is meaningful, not what is expedient 

8 Tell the truth. Or at least don’t lie 

9 Assume the person you are listening to knows something you don’t 

10 Be precise in your speech 

11 Do not bother children while they are skateboarding 

12 Pet a cat when you encounter one in the street 

It is interesting to think about everything, and the important role philosophy has played in my daily life recently: one of my best friends just told me she has been reading German philosopher’s piece recently. 

How I feel about all these: I had lots thoughts during my way back. But somehow I would like to write about another thing first: Be nice to people. I guess this can tie to Rule 9. 

So on my way back, I made a short term plan for myself: I need to start writing. I don’t like my work laptop; I don’t like carrying the old Mac; I don't like iPad keyboard; I traded-in the broken Mac; therefore, I need a new laptop. I have been thinking about getting a new one for months, but haven’t made a decision yet: which model? Or do I really need a new one? I mean I can still use my work laptop, it’s free, and I have been using it for a few months, and I don’t need to take care of it. I can use my desktop if I work at home, and iPad is enough for watching video. BUT, I asked myself again: do you still want a new laptop? And the answer is yes. SO I drove to Apple store. 

I went in, checked, compared two models, and undecided. No sales approached me, until there’s one guy asked me if I have any question, and he would be happy to answer. I told him I was considering getting a new Mac, just don’t know which one to get yet. The conversation continued, and somehow turned into a casual conversation, like what you use it for, and where did you go to school, what do you do. Actually when he stood next to me and talked to me, I smelt alcohol. I didn’t like it: day drinking? hang-over? Not professional. But what do I care? Somehow he was trying to show me a video he edited on his Mac, and it happened to be his snowboarding trip. “Oh, I also snowboard.” He immediate became more excited:” Oh year?” Despite my suspicion that he was not sure which Mac I was going to get, I went ahead and told him which one I was going to get. Payment next, of course. Surprisingly, after he showed me the total amount, he said: “I assume you are going to use it for school, and you are in University,” and he applied the educational discount for me, without me asking, and with him knowing I started working already. Of course I played along and said thank you. But it is just amazing, how people react when they feel respected and maybe have some common interests with you. 

This is very interesting. I haven’t had a theory or thought on how this works yet, but it reminds me of M, who always tries to play tricks with people (at least that’s how I feel). He would try to make people like him, so that he can take advantage of people. For me, it’s all just shitty moves. I also remember him mentioning his sister did not have a rough childhood because she was just smart and cute, while he seemed to have struggled a lot. I don’t know if gender played a role in this. I need to organize my thoughts and revisit this topic. 

I might need to read the book another time, cause for now, I am thinking about things just happened to me when I was listening the book. Specifically, relationship. It is not just relationship with others, but also relationship with myself. 

In some senses, I am grateful for everything, because otherwise, I will be the spoiled, stubborned girl, arrogant, and thinks she’s smart and capable of doing anything, while don’t quite understand what she wants and gets irritated and jealous when she feel insecure. Maybe. But people live perfectly fine and happy without thinking about questions like: what do I want, how can I improve myself? What’s the reason behind things? Or even, what’s the meaning of life? But again: what did I do wrong? 

My last relationship was a Chaos, and even now, I only understood half of that, by that I mean myself. I did not know my motive, did understand my suffering. I get a sense of why I did it, and believed my self-help mechanism in getting out of it, lots of efforts and more chaos. But eventually, I made my mind and stepped out of it. Now I totally understood the saying that the real farewell is silent: I made a decision and move on. He did everything he could to lure me back, but everything looked like a show to me. 

This is why I think I was acting so stupid and said stupid things Friday night. I guess this was amazing in some sense that I did not believe someone could be so dramatic cause I felt like it was just a show. But my experience made me believe it could be out of frustration, consists of the eager to love and the anger of not being loved. I messed up, from the beginning. The moment I did not feel right, I should have spoken up. I do not like confrontation and have a tendency of avoiding conflicts. I tried indirectly, while the indicator, the responses further confused me. As a lawyer, I believe every word mean somethings. So when I get a response contains the phrase “this time,” I couldn’t help wondering, does it mean, next time would be ok? Yet, I failed to ask. I was afraid. 

But, how stupid was I to say something like I believed he was the one. While I was drunk: drunk enough to say things I truly believe while not wise at all to say.  Also I’ve made a decision to delete him, so what’s the worst thing that could happen? The worst was already happening, thus it did not really matter, so I might just say it. -- Stupid. But why? What made him so special? Don’t you just meet? Don’t you barely know anything about him? All true. BUT.. First of all, the dramatic entrance: I probably still love drama, how we met makes a good story, so that’s just the advantage. What else? Timing and characters. 

There is a saying: you will have three people you love in your life: one loved you, one you loved, and the right one. I didn’t believe it: I believed I was going to be with P, living in Chicago, having a house, two dogs, and happily ever after. Somehow, I messed up, he became the one loved me. I guess M was the one I loved, or at least at some point. I was lost for a long time, and finally had time with myself, trying to find my inner peace, not trying to be in a relationship, just spending time with myself. Then, I found D. For me, a perfect timing. As summarized by my friend, I don’t like people chasing me, I only like the person I picked. Inevitably, before I realized anything, I found myself attracted to D already: finance + engineer + Chicago + Aquarius + New York + 30+ years old + wanting to go to bourbon tour with me + would learn scuba diving. It’s too good to be true. I am sensitive, so I can feel his interests, his withdraw, and his hesitation. Again, as a lawyer, I couldn’t help thinking everything he said, and trying to figure out what made him not interested any more? Did I say something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Why is he telling me he is an introvert? Somehow I believe he did not believe I was accountable, maybe he did not believe love at first sight? 

I don’t believe it, so I want to meet him in person. I want to know more about him, see how he acts. The combination of things made me fall for him. But I was too focused on myself, and too afraid to ask how he felt or what he wanted. One thing I learned from the book is people tend to be willfully blindness. Same happened to me: he must be busy. I kept finding excuses for him. The moment I felt uncomfortable, I should have acted. There is a story in the book, where the anger, all the emotion, unsatisfactions are a baby monster; when people ignore them, they grow, and one day became so big that you cannot ignore. I think I have accumulated all my feelings to the extend I cannot handle any more, and it explored. -- Stupid. 

Another thing bothered me was when D asked me how I behave when I get angry, I don’t really know, so I said I would not confront and will calm myself down and talk, I believe I said when I was younger. He was like, is it passive aggressive? that’s terrible. I did not know how to explain it. I totally agree passive aggressive is horrible, cause I was treated by M the entire time, ignorance, neglect, manipulation, purposely avoiding-- basically in every possible ways, that’s my understanding of passive aggressive. I did not really know how to answer because I don’t remember when was the last time I was angry and not treated by the passive aggressive behavior, so I was like: when I was younger. Thus, I was not sure why D would not response to me sometimes. Seems like a passive aggressive behavior, while he knew passive aggressive is a bad behavior. Very confused. 

This is longer than I have expected, but I don’t even feel like I started my points yet. I have to list things to do tomorrow cause I really need to draft something I promised. I need to talk to myself to sort things out. Past two months’ memories are all blur, it’s just amazing how human brain and body functions to protect ourselves. 

[mywinestainedheart]

My Fault. His Fault. Our Fault.

If you fight for your limitations, you get to keep them.

I came across this quote on my Instagram timeline one morning. This statement could have pertained to anything depending on the personal experience of who was reading it, but because I’m trying to swim against the waves and whitecaps of depression, anxiety and a breakup, I associated it with that. If you’ve read my previous post about being a bitter ex-girlfriend, then you know that I’m not the most understanding of people until the anger subsides. While I still have my hurt and resentment over the end of this latest relationship, I am in the process of healing, which means I am now starting to consider quotes like this one from a different point of view. My antipathy and narcissism have me thinking: “Yes! He was nothing but a shackle on my ankle anyway, so good riddance to him”. My maturity remembers that it’s not always someone else who is the dead weight. Sometimes, it’s you.

It has taken me a while, but lately I’ve been trying to force myself to accept that our relationship isn’t the miracle recovery story, but rather the cadaver he got to practice and learn from so that he can perform better in his next relationship. For a whole year, I’d been giving CPR to a corpse. This is my biggest hindrance. Every person I date is meant to be my “forever”. I get so caught up in the potential of what we could be that I’m blinded to the reality of what we are: Dead. And I’m the only one in hysterics, screaming for a medic while trying to resuscitate an already decaying situation. With this latest death, I refused to acknowledge reality. I wasn’t blinded—I knew relationship rigor mortise had long set in—I simply didn’t want to believe it. I mean, this was the first time I’d ever said I love you to someone. I’d opened myself up—I was vulnerable and let someone else in—so didn’t God owe me that miracle recovery just this once?!

When someone decides they no longer want to be with you, letting go of that person is a whole-hearted individual effort. You have to want to let go in order to move forward because, if you fight for your limitations, you get to keep them. He’d eventually stopped fighting; recognising sooner than I did that maybe we’re not the right fit for each other. He’d surreptitiously been fondling the life support plug when I wasn’t looking until he’d managed to get a firm enough grip and yanked it. I don’t know what he did with his share of our remains. As for myself, I only buried our relationship about a month ago. We’d been dead for over a year so I feel that I shouldn’t give time for the emotional ground to settle and rather erect a headstone as soon as possible, but what would it even read?

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t love me”?

“I know it’s over, but I still imagine what our kids would look like”?

“I don’t know if I’ll ever have the strength to be your friend after this”?

“Do you really believe you gave us a fair chance”?

For now, I’m walking (staggering) away from the grave to live my life crying in random spurts, wondering if he ever thinks of me when he’s had too much to drink, or when he’s putting himself to bed at night. I miss him to hell and back, and the urge to dial his number sometimes aches like arthritis in my fingers, but I know I’d only be speaking to his ghost. So, I choose to roll over and sleep the middle of my bed, reminding myself that there’s someone else these days who sleeps on my side of his. She gets the midnight forehead kisses now, and I can’t help but hate her for it.

I’ve buried us, but a piece of me deep, deep down still calls on God for a resurrection. I realise that this is insane, but I’m a nit-picker and a hopeless romantic by design, so I often entertain thoughts about what could happen five years from now. Maybe I’ll get my shit together, maybe after he’s done trying to find whatever was missing from us in someone else, he’ll realise that we actually are the right fit. Maybe he misses me too and he’ll call, maybe we just need time, maybe we’re the exception to the principle of finality… I’m a master at breaking my own heart; can you tell?

When I find myself running away with fantasies like that, I switch focus and try to remember the things I didn’t like about him. One of the big ones was that he used to skip night showers in favour of the morning. This bothered me because you accumulate the most dirt during the day and that’s what you’re taking into your bed? Ewe. It also bothered me that he rarely brushed his teeth (morning or night) unless he was meeting someone important that day. Weirdly, his breath never smelled, but… oral hygiene? I decide that this is something that must not have been enforced on him as a child the way it was with us growing up. If he and I ever got married and started a family (and we’d have made beautiful babies, by the way), he might think me militant because night showers and teeth brushing would have been non-negotiable; the same way it was under my mother’s roof. He also didn’t enjoy working out and eating healthy. I thrived on this lifestyle. I liked my toned physique and worked hard to maintain it because I liked knowing that I had the aesthetically appealing body type that most people want but are too lazy to achieve. It made me one step ahead of average, even if my looks were nothing to brag about. Looking good physically made me feel good internally. But he felt just as good eating fast food most days of the week and drinking coke for breakfast. What would he look like in five years when I would be pushing weights to look like sixty-something-year-old Angela Bassett? I also disliked his Mr-Know-It-All personality. I couldn’t vent to him without him giving me a solution or make a general statement without him sounding off on the topic as though to prove that he knew more about it than me. That said, he also talked a lot, and I sometimes worried about this because if I ever brought him around certain family members, he might rub them the wrong way.

Fuck, and after all that I was still in love with the man.

I suppose that would mean I’m not as superficial when it comes to my partners as I used to be. I had a vision of The Perfect Guy in my head with all the strapping trims and finishings, but then this idiot steered into my life in an old, beat up VW rather than a white horse, brown haired, blue-eyed and shaggy-bearded only to toss my checklist (and my bra) out the window. I now accept that there will always be things you don’t like about someone else (I’m sure he could write an encyclopedia detailing the things he doesn’t like about me), but those things are hardly deal breakers. His less favourable qualities didn’t negate the fact that he was, and is, an amazing human being. For the first two years that we were together (although I did display bouts of jealousy) I never questioned his fealty to me. I knew, deep down, that I was the be all and end all. Not all women get to experience that in their lifetime. He spoiled me with it.

I know I let him slip through my fingers, and I beat myself up about it almost every day. I also know that he abused my trust, but it’s no longer any of my business whether he beats himself up about that anymore. We both messed up in different ways in different magnitudes, and that’s why we died. Neither of us is solely to blame but, for me, that’s what makes the grieving process so difficult. I miss him to hell and back, but he’s probably done me a favour by giving up the fight first.

Had he not, I would have stayed in a country I hate, probably moved to a town I don’t like just to be with him, found yet another unfulfilling job and trained myself to be content with just him, his family, and maybe a dog (or a cat, which I would have hated). As much as I loved and love him, I questioned and question that ideal. He was buying family plots and making plans in his head about where his kids were going to grow up. I’m wading through a battle with depression and trying to regain wasted years of career inexperience. Until I win, I’m not thinking about marriage and kids. And I’ve always wanted more for my life than a husband and a humble home. Not that I’m quite sure what more is, but it would not be found in a small industrial town where I have no friends of my own and potential in-laws that might not take too kindly to our interracial relationship. He was also earning enough to have moved out of his parents house by age 25, but every job I was finding by age 27, as a woman, was not willing to pay me anything more than just enough to cover basic essentials. Moving out on what I was making would mean moving into desolation and isolation because after rent was paid, I’d be too broke to do anything. Not to mention I’d be unable to save, barely put fuel in my car and make room for little unexpected expenses. But, to him, it was like I wasn’t trying. He turned into Mr-Know-It-All with his solutions and I became resentful because it felt like he wasn’t aiming to understand my circumstances before sounding off. This also might have been when the depression started to creep in, but neither of us knew. We just knew that I wasn’t the same person. I was angry all the time and had a negative attitude towards everything. I also became desperate and needy and I would make him the sole focus of my days because, for a long time, he was the only thing that stimulated a little bit of dopamine in my brain. I smothered him with demands for his time and affection when he really didn’t want to be rationing it to me anymore. If he hadn’t chosen to give up the fight and walk away, what would have become of me? Of us as people? What if he hadn’t let me hit rock bottom?

All considerations route back to the inkling that, together, we probably were each other’s limitations.

However, knowing that I am likely destined for something greater than what he can offer me right now doesn’t stop that little piece of me from hoping. I’ve now trained that voice to hope in silence, though. It has championed far too loudly for some of the wrongest situations in the past, so I try my best to pay it no regard with the anticipation that one day it will go mute, like it did with all the others.

I miss him to hell and back, but maybe he’s just not man enough to handle my particular brand of crazy—and I can be crazy when it’s brought out of me. Maybe he needs someone soft. Someone with a handle on her mental stability. Someone endearing with a mouth that doesn’t spit venom when she feels threatened. Maybe that girl on my side of his bed is who he deserves. She may never love him as hard, but she will love him enough. Enough to transform him into the man he so desperately wants to be that might not be the man I could love in five years.

I miss him to hell and back, but that tombstone on our grave needs to be put up. What would it read? I’m still deciding.

“Maybe we’ll find our way back as friends cause, you know, stranger things have happened.”

“I hope your kids end up with her big nose.” (What? I told you I was a bitter ex-girlfriend)

or,

“I hate you right now, only because I still love you. I’m currently searching for the path to indifference. I’m sorry for my contributions to our chaos. I pray she never hurts you like that. Don’t let your arguments with your mum get to you too often. You’re more like her than you think. Be careful with your words when you’re angry. You can be more caustic than me during those moments. Even though your stressed face might be sexy it doesn’t need to be your permanent expression, so try to take more time for yourself and the things you enjoy. I hope your sister gives you a soccer team of nieces and nephews so you can relish the spoils that come with being an uncle. You’ll make a great one. Get back to that building-a-model-car idea with your dad so you can spend more time with him, like I know you said you wanted to. I pray that your whole family stays in good health and that you find whatever it was that was missing from us in your new relationship. I hope you still think about me and, selfishly, I hope the idea of me with someone else still bothers you a little too, because being happy for you is still hard for me, but I will try harder to learn. I don’t want to move on but I know it’s what needs to happen. I told you I cleared out everything of us, but I keep a single photo of you. Maybe one day I’ll delete it. I miss you to hell and back, but the pain is ebbing slowly every day. Please take care of yourself.”

#Healing Seeking MentalHealth OneDay Hope ILovedYou