My knees were shaking. My mouth dry, my mind a blank. I tried again to listen to what he was telling me, but no matter how hard I listened I didn’t hear anything over the mind shattering silence in my head. I listened and there was nothing, and it drove me crazy. Time did not matter as I just stood there frozen. Then, as suddenly as the silence disappeared a question screamed in my head; “Do you love her?”
Suddenly that was the most important thing in my life. His answer. Did he love her? Like it would somehow make it better to know. To forgive though I could never forgive him. Or to leave, though I thought I would never be able to. Yet I was scared, scared that by me asking I would somehow make him love her, make him think of her in a way he hadn’t before and then realize that, yes, he did love her.
Still I whispered my question. Whimpering like a puppy afraid of being hurt by its owner. “Do you love her?” He looked at me, but I could not meet his eyes and looked at the floor, to my feet. The seconds went by as I wondered just what I wanted to hear.
A yes would send me to rock bottom in a heartbeat. I would break, my hart would shatter into pieces so small it would take me forever to glue them back together. But still, a yes would be the end of this chapter but also, in time, a beginning of a new. At rock bottom there would be only one way to move on. Upwards.
A no would be my chance to keep this going. This tango between to people so destructive that anything in its way would be destroyed. Like a hurricane this relationship was tearing me up by the roots, and blowing away everything I had built up. A no would be a prison, the final nail in the coffin for all my values. With a no I would forgive the thing I vowed I could never forgive. A no, and he would own me forever.
He drew his breath as I held mine. “ I don’t know” he answered. As always not doing as I expected, as I needed. What was I going to do with “I don’t know”? Stay and fight? Make him see, as I so clearly saw it; that it was me and no one else for him? But what would I be winning? More pain? More drama? He was the worst thing that ever happened to me, and for that I loved him. I was mad with love – literally.
But I could not live with “I don’t know”. For the first time in a long, long time I dug myself out of the hole that had become my life, the hole he had dug me. A grave for all my strength, moral and self-worth. I reached for my jacket. The room was spinning. The colors turned grey, everything turned gray. My hart pounded in my head. I put my jacket on, taking time buttoning every single button, my hands shaking. Then I took my bag and turned for the door. I needed to go home and cry and rinse myself of all of this. To be white as driven snow yet again. To live. And maybe someday, be happy again.
“Nina…” He called my name in a low voice. In my name, I heard everything. Every feeling, every thought we ever shared. Maybe he wanted to ask me to stay, maybe he wanted to say he was sorry, that it would be only me if I came back. Maybe he just wanted to say good bye. But I didn’t stay for all these words that might have come, I had already overstayed this relationship and the hollow person that was left of me would die in his arms if I did not leave at once. “Nina…” was really all I needed to hear.
-----------------------------------------------
I don’t remember much more of that night other than that I walked around all night in a daze. Tears streaming. No tears for him, but for everything he was not. But somehow I lived through, and after a while, a long while, I found myself again and greeted her happily. But sometimes, even now over five years later, I have the worst bad dreams were we are still together. I wake up shaking; turning to find my fiancé snoring heavily at my side and then thanking God it was just a nightmare.
Thursday 18 December 2008
Wednesday 10 December 2008
Aimless Age
I’ve got this haunting feeling that I am not living my life to the best of it’s potential. I recognize the fact that, not believing in any God, we have merely a given time on earth/ at life. And in times like these, as tonight, I can’t help feeling I’m not making the best of the time I got. I do understand that I am not entitled to know exactly how long I actually got on this earth, yet still I don’t make a best of it.
I am grateful that I have my health, but still I don’t make a best of it.
I’m young, but don’t make a best of it.
I am alive, and don’t make a best of it.
I am as ungrateful as everyone else in my generation. just floating away on the purposelessness that marks this day in age. They call it “Generation X”, I call it “Aimless age"
In England you can’t fall asleep on the subway without getting burned - literary! You can’t complain when kids break in to your car, they will kill you. In France the kids turn to chaos because the don’t have a cause. In Greece the street are on fire as we speak, cause a whole generation is outraged at a stray-bullet, ‘cause there is nothing else to be outraged over.
For the first time in generations, since man walked earth, the young ones have nothing to fight for. And the aimless rage is killing man, woman and child in our streets.
What does this say about us? You and me, not carrying “Molotov cocktails” but with the same sense of lack of purpose, wasting our days??
And finally, the eternal question, what is the meaning of life?
What is my meaning?
what is my life?
I’m sorry to ask; “Is it merely this? “ ( may “karma” strike down upon thee” )
I am thinking that the purpose may have gotten lost somehow between our parent- generation and ours/between God and reality/ heaven and earth/ you and me, and we are just breathing while we wait for an answer as to where to aim said purpose. How else could you explain a whole generation terrorising the streets all over the world?
Burning.
Burning down its self, its being of man, of child, of purpose and life?
Or maybe it is just this; We know, deep down, that we are killing “mother earth” and there is no way of turning back, our children will die of pollution and love is merely a mating-issue within our species ….. maybe the shades are off and the truth is to hard to bare. Maybe our generation buckles under the weight of responsibility.
Oh, give us relief, give us something else to hold on to, something shallow that will keep us in the dark,
with the the fact that there is nothing…
Nothing…
I am grateful that I have my health, but still I don’t make a best of it.
I’m young, but don’t make a best of it.
I am alive, and don’t make a best of it.
I am as ungrateful as everyone else in my generation. just floating away on the purposelessness that marks this day in age. They call it “Generation X”, I call it “Aimless age"
In England you can’t fall asleep on the subway without getting burned - literary! You can’t complain when kids break in to your car, they will kill you. In France the kids turn to chaos because the don’t have a cause. In Greece the street are on fire as we speak, cause a whole generation is outraged at a stray-bullet, ‘cause there is nothing else to be outraged over.
For the first time in generations, since man walked earth, the young ones have nothing to fight for. And the aimless rage is killing man, woman and child in our streets.
What does this say about us? You and me, not carrying “Molotov cocktails” but with the same sense of lack of purpose, wasting our days??
And finally, the eternal question, what is the meaning of life?
What is my meaning?
what is my life?
I’m sorry to ask; “Is it merely this? “ ( may “karma” strike down upon thee” )
I am thinking that the purpose may have gotten lost somehow between our parent- generation and ours/between God and reality/ heaven and earth/ you and me, and we are just breathing while we wait for an answer as to where to aim said purpose. How else could you explain a whole generation terrorising the streets all over the world?
Burning.
Burning down its self, its being of man, of child, of purpose and life?
Or maybe it is just this; We know, deep down, that we are killing “mother earth” and there is no way of turning back, our children will die of pollution and love is merely a mating-issue within our species ….. maybe the shades are off and the truth is to hard to bare. Maybe our generation buckles under the weight of responsibility.
Oh, give us relief, give us something else to hold on to, something shallow that will keep us in the dark,
with the the fact that there is nothing…
Nothing…
Tuesday 2 December 2008
Shhh! No tremors
It is all at a standstill
Life
My life
A house
And I am on the outside looking in
It is built of straw
On sandy ground
With motion
Any motion
I fear it all would fall apart
So
I keep it at a standstill
Life
My life
A house
And I am on the outside looking in
It is built of straw
On sandy ground
With motion
Any motion
I fear it all would fall apart
So
I keep it at a standstill
Monday 1 December 2008
Speachless feelings
An author which stories I am reading right now uses four whole books to paint a picture of true love, and she paints it oh so beautifully. She gives me heartache, makes me cry and long for more. She also makes me happy and grateful for love. Nowadays I can’t wait to get home from work to continue reading and taking another ride of the ups and downs that is love. I don’t want the story to ever end.
Still I wonder, can the picture of love be fully painted with fewer words? Or more correctly, can love ever be fully described? Personally I don’t think I have enough colors to even begin describing the ways of the heart and soul. I dimly perceive the extent of all that love is. The only thing I truly know of love is that I have found the one I lay my soul to rest with. The one who will have my heart and keep it safe until I die.
Pondering this I fell utterly dethatched from the rest of the world. Looking out my office window thinking that nobody else has time to do the same, to take time being thankful for love. The world would be a grim place without it, but too many are blind to this fact, and maybe therefore it sometimes do get lost.
I wish I could take flight out of my window and just sail away distancing myself from the triviality of everyday life. If love is a flower, everyday life is the bee seduced by its beauty and then as it settles, nurtured by it. But trying to pick the flower will make the bee fly away and maybe sting you on the way. To let love be, blossoming under the son, is the only way the bee will stay with the flower. To let love be what it is, not trying to change it is the only way to keep it on our lives, in our reach.
Or maybe it’s the other way around? Maybe life is the flower, constantly growing, facing the sun, waiting and longing for the bee to come help it fulfill its destiny, tom make it whole. Giving and receiving in nature’s companionship. Disturbing love, it will hurt you. The flower would wither as the bee flew away, as I imagine life would without love. Always longing for it back would break even the strongest person. The petals would fall to the ground as the flowers beauty faded away, the sun would set and the cold, dark winter would rise from the east. And in its freezing grasp also the bee would seize to exist. The mutual exclusiveness of it all is nature’s gift and curse.
I am lost for words. But in my pounding hart I keep it close, the thought that I must never let love go, yet keep it free and undisturbed.
Still I wonder, can the picture of love be fully painted with fewer words? Or more correctly, can love ever be fully described? Personally I don’t think I have enough colors to even begin describing the ways of the heart and soul. I dimly perceive the extent of all that love is. The only thing I truly know of love is that I have found the one I lay my soul to rest with. The one who will have my heart and keep it safe until I die.
Pondering this I fell utterly dethatched from the rest of the world. Looking out my office window thinking that nobody else has time to do the same, to take time being thankful for love. The world would be a grim place without it, but too many are blind to this fact, and maybe therefore it sometimes do get lost.
I wish I could take flight out of my window and just sail away distancing myself from the triviality of everyday life. If love is a flower, everyday life is the bee seduced by its beauty and then as it settles, nurtured by it. But trying to pick the flower will make the bee fly away and maybe sting you on the way. To let love be, blossoming under the son, is the only way the bee will stay with the flower. To let love be what it is, not trying to change it is the only way to keep it on our lives, in our reach.
Or maybe it’s the other way around? Maybe life is the flower, constantly growing, facing the sun, waiting and longing for the bee to come help it fulfill its destiny, tom make it whole. Giving and receiving in nature’s companionship. Disturbing love, it will hurt you. The flower would wither as the bee flew away, as I imagine life would without love. Always longing for it back would break even the strongest person. The petals would fall to the ground as the flowers beauty faded away, the sun would set and the cold, dark winter would rise from the east. And in its freezing grasp also the bee would seize to exist. The mutual exclusiveness of it all is nature’s gift and curse.
I am lost for words. But in my pounding hart I keep it close, the thought that I must never let love go, yet keep it free and undisturbed.
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