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forget-it-i-cant-explain-it · 6 years

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WHY ?

Why do you have to come crashing into my life again like a drunk driver through a busy street ?

The last four weekends have been perfect artworks tainted by your careless brush.

I know something is brewing in the universe,

I can feel it all through my bones.

A mere day before I was contacted about you in the strangest of circumstances, I had turned to my mum, voice quivering and said:

“Something is stirring in him. I can feel him coming back into my orbit” and it sent shivers of fear down my spine.

The very next night my phone went off. The delicate veil I have spent all year sewing till my fingers bled raw began to come undone, revealing small glimpses of your life, a life I have tried to forget existed.

Then the next weekend I see you, for the first time in close to a year.

It was completely unexpected, my guard was down. Unlike all the other events I have attended this year where I nervously scanned crowds throughout the night. I had forgotten to worry, distracted by the elation of my recent graduation and the company of my new nourishing friendships.

I should have known that is always how it works, the universe is tricky that way. When you release something that is usually its cue to come boomeranging back into your life.

Suddenly you strolled through the door.

It was a strange moment, time stood still for a second. We locked eyes and you stopped in your tracks staring at me intensely, both of us hyper aware of the girl trailing behind you who had just been on the back of your bike. At first I had so many battling feelings I couldn’t place any of them but slowly they began to dissipate landing on fear and fury.

I wasn’t prepared.

Within seconds my friends rallied to my side, in a show of solidarity that still brings tears to my eyes. What I ever did to deserve such wonderful people in my life I will never know. I was like a shocked little child who’s parents were leading them away from a bad man, taking my hand they ushered me to safety.

It was ugly, but despite being deeply anxious, there was a level of removal from it that I never was able to achieve before. In the past each emotion would trickle through my blood stream till it had reached the corners and crevices of my heart and travelled to my fingertips engulfing me. Instead the emotion stayed in one place, swelling in my chest and settling in my stomach as a dull ache. I was aware of an ability that I never was before, the ability to still go on. The ability to still look around myself and see my concerned friends faces itching to get back on the dance floor. To hear the rhythm of the music gently nudging my body, and to know that I could still enjoy what was here in the moment, even if I didn’t enjoy all of it or you.

These past two years have changed me so profoundly, there is no going back to that sick broken girl who would have drowned in your toxic presence.

My wounds have scabbed like a kind of temporary armour protecting me as I rebuild.

For months I have been assured by many that you would not be at the festival this year. The thought made me breath freely, knowing I could celebrate the end of an era of my life in peace and in comfort. Last years memories of being locked in my car for hour upon hour while you paraded around with women a mere two days after breaking up with me still haunt me.

I remember watching you walk arm in arm back to you camp site with Kate, right past me, we locked eyes for a brief instant and you carried on unaffected. Meanwhile I returned to my solemn cave, and locked the doors as I tried to control the anxiety boiling in my body and soul.

At this time I had no idea you had also hooked up with Hayley, and despite you later promising me with tears streaming down your face that you never even hooked up with Kate she looked me dead in the eye one night out and flatly answered that you did. And that you had assured her at the time you and I had been over for a long long time and that I just wasn’t over you.

Yeh I guess that part was true given the breakup had come out of the blue only two days prior.

Classy. Cruel.

Later when we spoke of the whole event, you hung your head in shame. Your body convulsed against mine as your tears and snot soaked my shirt. I absorbed it with your sadness like the giant handkerchief that I was. Desperate to understand what could drive the man I loved so dearly to act so callous and so cruel. Desperate to soak up your pain along the way.

Words fell from your lips “ I can’t believe I ever treated you that way, I am so ashamed Bronte”

You explained over and over that during that time you couldn’t feel anything. You said you were numb. You had refused to let any feelings in. You told me that was your default position. A coping mechanism you had developed as a scared little boy during your traumatic childhood.

I ached for you in places I forgot I had. With each word of explanation and justification my pain dulled under the strength of yours.

We had sex that night. The kind you think only exists in epic novels. Clutching each other as though we were the only thing holding one another to this earth.

And so I gave in. I kept the volume on my pain way down low, so I could hear you once again. I timidly opened my family home, my christmas table and my heart assured by the promises you had made me that night that you were going to dedicate your life and soul to healing yourself and to healing us.

And now I sit here almost a year later knowing you didn’t mean any of it . On the tail end of discovery, break up, and a whole lot of lies.

Having watched you from afar with the girl whom you were already seeing at this point last year I realise how naive I really was.

And today I have now just discovered you are coming to the festival once again.

And I am sick to my stomach, thinking about what you could possibly do to me this year.

What do I do?

Do I protect my barely healed scabs of armour and stay in bed.

Do I dare to trust that you would be mindful and kind in a way you never have before ?

That is ludicrous.

This is my dilema.

TBC.

#mystory #writing #writingfortherapy #creative writing #thoughts #personal #anxietyrelief #writingasanoutlet #create #love #breakups #healing

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jaysteentheillest · 5 years

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Working on progressing and success. The true definition of success. Not society’s brainwashed interpretation. That’s a hard thing to do in this time and age. It requires knowledge and acceptance of self as well as honesty with one’s self. Fighting years of trauma and generations of struggle. Difficult doesn’t even begin to explain the hardships and challenges. Especially when today’s world focuses on destroying a person’s very spirit and mind. Zombifying the masses with nonstop instantaneous bullshit. Glorifying false gods and leaders. I refuse to live my life a sheep. I’ll be damned if I obediently bow my head and accept the crimes that have been accepted as laws. I won’t allow my spirit to be broken. I won’t fall in line. Fuck the powers at be. I am working towards achieving enlightenment and peace. Creating a balance that allows us to thrive in today’s world and remain faithful to virtues that promote family, solidarity with our fellow neighbors and friends, encourage perseverance, and above all; love and acceptance. It’s not an easy task. But I was never one to get discouraged easily. In the end, when the time comes for me to be judged by a higher power, I want to know and prove that I fought against hate and injustices.

#writingfortherapy #writer #writingcommunity #consciousness #enlightenment #inner strength #inner peace #empowerment #progression #progress not perfection #love #life #humblr

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