I try not to cry. Then moments, simple moments, happen, where I sit still, and the tears just fall of their own accord. Not even stirred by a thought, but perhaps just the act of being, of being still, gives permission for the walls to come down for a moment, to have a moment of frailty.
I am not frail, I know this. I’ve been to further depths of despair and unhappiness than most could even dream of bearing and I have borne them. However, I feel cheated by these moments. By these tears. I vacillate between yin and yang, of wanting to burn myself out so I am too tired to feel and in the same token wanting to stand still so feelings can burn through me.
I didn’t want to love someone and not have them love me the same. I didn’t want to love someone who didn’t love me enough to make change. I don’t want to hurt because I loved genuinely. I don’t want to feel sad for myself. I am angry with myself. I don’t want to miss someone who didn’t care enough and I feel betrayed by myself. So I push and I push each day so I can obliterate thought, but the smile doesn’t ever quite reach the eyes and the lips never make complete a smile. This makes me frustrated. I don’t want to be this way.
I’ve been told to do many things. Exercise, form a girl tribe, start dating, work harder, travel, join Tinder, take up a hobby and the list is endless. I truly just want to curl up in bed and let the pain wash over me with as much time as it needs and be done with it. Hurt me till you can hurt no more and leave me. But that, is weakness, it’ll beat me hollow with memories, feelings, sounds, smells of the past, and then anger will kick in with fists and blows. Because, I say to myself, I made the mistake to love without honouring myself and standing up for what I needed.
And I want to say damn it, I put myself here, of my own accord, I didn’t stand up when I should have and I didn’t leave when I should have. I kept trying and eroding and morphing into a person I started to despise, because my roots and foundation were being neglected. I poisoned myself, I know, have known, honour what you need and if someone cannot honour that, you move away, not try and force the situation. I tried to force my needs, water from a stone, put a square peg into a round hole, or actually no hole, there was no hole for me, not even for that damn flag. Rome was already built, Caesar ran the palace. Cleopatra, she left. To create her own special, with Mark Anthony who loved her for she she was and what she needed. She’s not crying.