“When you believe in a thing, believe in it all the way, implicitly and unquestionable.” – Walt Disney
*listening to My Immortal – Evanescence*
These days, I amuse myself.
I used to believe in my strength… implicitly… unquestionably. In the fact that, in the midst of all the trauma and noise and stuff, I’d always be able to hold myself together and do whatever it is that I need to do. Strong enough to be the glue that binds everyone together… strong enough to be the one that everyone could lean on… strong enough to be beyond pain. Yup, I used to imagine that I was somehow beyond hurting.
But I’ve learned better over the last three years… now haven’t I?
It’s funny; I told myself last year, that I would never open myself up to anything that could take that much of an effect on me. And I thought to myself that closing myself off was the only way to keep myself safe. I healed, and I was fine for a while. But then, someone else came along, and I got caught up. I tried, my head tried to warn me, all the alarm bells went off, reminded me of the past and what could happen… shit, the situations surrounding it all were so unwholesome, I should’ve not even been willing at all… but I was drawn, she was… stubborn. It was a fight that I wanted to lose. I wanted to be able to open myself up again.
So I simply stood, and let my force field of insecurities and distrust be battered; let each hit soak in after hit until it broke and I had no choice anymore. I was open, and I loved it.
But then isn’t life a bitch?
I opened myself up, and now I’m lying down here on my bed, eating a biscuit and typing a blog post at 2 am because I woke up, wondering what in the fuck I was thinking…
I know what I was thinking… nothing. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was in love.
Yep. Love… and we all know that nobody in love ever really knows what they’re doing. I was just driving fast, down that highway of emotions, thinking we were in the car together, and this was about us… and lo & behold: she was the one driving the truck that came around the bend for me to crash right into.
You would think, no. I would think that I’d be better now. That I’d have moved on completely.
Well, I am a little better… I have moved on slightly… on some days. On some other days I’m only fractionally keeping myself together. Trying hard not to yell at the people on the street when they trod on my shadow because I feel like touching me or stepping on anything me related will translate the pain I feel inside into real pain…
Psychosomatic… *singing along*These wounds won’t seem to heal; this pain is just too real. There’s just too much that time cannot erase…
Sometimes, I hate myself for being this weak…
I should sleep. Got to be up in less than 4 hours.
Maybe another dark, sleepless night will bring about something else…