Again

I wanted to talk about self-reflection for a bit today.

I thought maybe life would get easier as I grew up, because I understood more about who I am, how things work, how to create connections with people and how to move on past breaking them. I thought maybe it will be easy for me to find my soulmate, to completely let go and fall in love and to get it back. I was wrong, many times and it’s wearing me out.

Since I last wrote I have had a beautiful, blossoming relationship with someone I was excited to see growing old with, having little versions of us; more witty, more charming, more playful than we were. For a good three years life was beautiful and I had someone to share it with that was not like the others. We would see the world in our own way, through rose tinted glasses, we felt weightless, floating in our delusion of love. The cracks that were showing we gave no mind to, we believed in us and so did everyone else. We gaslighted ourselves in believing this was it, we didn’t have to look anywhere else anymore, because what we had was enough.

I was wrong, again.

I took some time to process my past and my trauma on my own. I haven’t been on my own, truly, in years. As a younger girl, it was very hard for me to understand my emotions and I felt them hard. I remember one time I was sat in my garden, it was nigh-time in December, I was freezing cold and I have been crying for hours. While I was trembling, sitting on a plastic broken chair that was shaking with me, I was hoping maybe I’d get pneumonia and I could just slip away in the cold and my thoughts would freeze. I would have some time to stop feeling like I was feeling. That feeling of hoping to die somehow has never went away.

Being alone has had its ups and downs for me, being that I am enjoying my own company but a bit too much now. I am tired of letting myself go for someone who wants me because of the fantasy they have of me, not because of me. Truly, I cannot blame the men in my life for believing what I show them, but as I slowly lose the magic and become myself, the glimmer in their eyes seems to dull, the grip on their hand becomes looser and I mean less.

I am tired of wanting to mean something for someone. Longing for someone to look at me and see the future in their eyes, wanting to be touched at every hour of the day just because they want to, begging to be chosen each and every time. These are the hopes of a little girl who’s watched Disney for the first time, dreams that I told myself I would have when I was crying next to the man that I thought loved me.

Been spending most of my days thinking about myself now, more than I ever had, trying to make sense if it’s still worth it. Am I still worth it? Does everyone else see something in me that I don’t? Because I have been starring into my own eyes lately and I don’t understand what I see. My eyes have become heavier, my smile is duller and I can see my own sadness in the creases of my eyebrows. I can see the hands that caressed my cheeks and wiped my tears and feel the forehead kisses I once thought were love. I can see the lies that I believed in my own eyes.

People around me seem to have chosen a path now, most of my high-school friends have gotten married with kids, my close friends have well paid jobs, planning to buy their first houses next to the beach, planning for their future, but the future seems so far away from me. I feel like I’m sitting in an empty room and as time goes by the room gets larger and I turn smaller, my hands are getting cold and it’s harder to move. I wish time would stop for a bit so I could choose, I wish I would know what I want to choose and if it’s the right choice.

No matter how much time passes it seems like my mind cannot make sense of what we’re supposed to do. I stupidly make choices out of impulse because if I fall to my thoughts I would never move anywhere, the room would keep getting bigger and I’d be lost in time.

What should I do?