They had lived together for å year now, and those who knew them would describe them as the perfect couple. Her friends would say that he made her better, even go so far as to say that he had fixed her and made her whole again. She was in love, and after all the disappointments she had had in her life, to let herself love again was a huge statement of trust, it was a gift she gave with caution. And now he had taken this gift and returned it to her with: “I don’t love you anymore”.
The words rang clear through the living room. She looked at him sitting on the sofa, his arms folded like he prayed, his head bent down, he couldn’t even look in her eyes. A million things ran through her mind, like if she ran in to a huge flock of birds, and like birds her thoughts flew up in the air and flew away all at once, in a distance it looked like a black cloud, and she knew there would be rainy days ahead. What have I done wrong, she asked herself. Am I that difficult to live with? Am I not pretty enough, caring enough? Oh, I have given this my all, please let me fall back in to your arms, make this better, please oh please make this better. She tried to postpone the sorrow, the hit by not saying anything. Trying to fool herself that it was in fact something completely different he had said. Give me just tonight, let me have a glass of wine or six, and let us celebrate life and the good times whe had, and let me get drunk and pass out from this madness. And then you leave, then you take your things and go.
Her thoughts flew all over her mind. The angry ones: You bastard! Do you know how much I changed for you? How hard I worked on this relationship? The hurt ones: Don’t leave. I will be better, I can do better, I can be nicer, and prettier, and thinner, and happier. The sensible ones: Who owns the stuff we bought together? How do we divide all this, our home? But finally, from the back of her mind, and from the deepest root that was her, and had been her for all her life, born when her father left her, feed from the pain of her breakup with her last boyfriend, nurtured by the sorrow when her mother got sick; hardness. The brick wall to put all emotion behind, to hide them or to lock them in, whatever was necessary at the time. She felt it calming the birds; she felt it giving her strength. Give him nothing it whispered, and she knew it did not refer to their mutual belongings, but to her self-worth.
If he had looked up, he would see the change in her face, the exact moment where it would be too late for him to take this back, to mend the gap between them. There would never be a way back from this point. But he did not look up, not even when she said; “Ok” followed by; “if that’s how you fell, you better leave” She hesitated for a moment and at that second a thought as small as a hummingbird, climbed the wall and flew out of her and carried with her a tiny bit of the hurt, and before she could help herself; “Is there someone else?” He had gotten up and was walking to the door, it felt as though they stood miles apart, he turned and looked at her, his eyes filled with tears. Like he was the one who was the sad one, the hurt one. Like it was the man letting the atom-bomb drop that was sorry, and not the children who ran from it.
A bomb, yes, it felt as though he had dropped a bomb on her, out of the clear blue sky it had dropped. How could she not have noticed that he had fallen out of love? Did not his touch seem just as warm as it always had been, his kisses not as friendly, loving, his smile did it not reach his eyes? Yes, he had been tired, and worked a lot lately, but everyone got tired once in a while, every couple had rough patches and fights. One is not supposed to be afraid of someone leaving every time one disagrees?! This is insane, she thought. Her breath grew shallow, and she knew she was going to break down at any time, the wall did not hold, not for this tsunami, not for these emotions so strong, not for her loving him still.
Finally; “No, there is no one else”, his voice flat. He stood there looking at her, waiting for her to say something, anything, but in her mind she prayed; leave, leave now; I can’t hold this is in no more… She trembled under the restraint of holding her tears. He sighed, and turned and was out the door in a heartbeat. She ran to the door and locked it, and as the lock kicked in to place she fell to the floor, and broke once more.
Sunday 10 April 2011
Sunday 3 April 2011
Writing to music #1
When I find myself hungry for words, but with no stories in my mind to jot down on paper, I find it helpful to turn on the radio and listen to music on my favorite radio station, and then just write the first thing that pops into my head, as I listen to the lyrics of various songs. Often it is music I don't like, or normally listen to, but that makes it even better, 'cause then I have no pretences. I usually do about five song, and try to keep the trail of though coherent. Sometimes it becomes just rubbish, other times it is something to build on for a short story and such, but it always leaves me with a feeling of contentment, I have fed the hunger.
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The phone in my hand, feels like a brick stone, a heavy burden I cannot throw away. Though I should. Throw it through a glass window; see it all go to pieces. Stop calling me. Every time I turn around they are there. I won’t answer when they call because I can’t think anymore. This is terror, people always wanting a word, always knowing where you are and what you are doing. How dependent we humans have become.
Telephone- Lady Gaga
I am searching for new things, ‘because I have fallen for all the temptation of this futuristic world. I don’t know what or where it all went wrong, but somehow I have gotten so far away from who I am, that I am scared I can’t find my way back. I miss standing heart to heart and being real with each other. Not texting, not tweeting, not “liking your status” on Facebook. I don’t want this digital social connection no more, I want reality. The real world. We are blinded by all this technical wonders, and we need to be real, we need the warmth of the touch to stay human.
Blinded by the dark – The pusher
I’m dying for the company of something I can touch. Not a friendly e-mail or tweet, but a real handshake or a hug. I can’t take any more of this digital realness we have crated. I hate even the music which is auto tuned so much it sound like robots singing, or pictures photo shopped out of this world. What it is it with this day in age, where nothing is real? Where nothing is allowed to be real. We have to make everything seem perfect, and keep on dancing until the world ends. And since perfection is so unreal, and created, we all falter, we all feel like disappointments.
Till the world ends- Britney Spears
All it takes is the moon shining light on something we cannot bear to watch. In its murky light, maybe we will see everything clearer? That in its flawed realness a picture is actually perfect. That it is the sun shining on me and you that will only be real when we are outside in true sunlight. Like the first real warm sun hitting your face in the spring, after a long and cold winter, making freckles magically appear. That is when life is real, when it is perfect.
Wildflower –Cee Lo
Faith is so many things, but all in all it is the hands of faith which makes up life, which gives us stories. Not all is good, and maybe that’s why we flee into this unreal, made-up perfectionistic digital world. Maybe that’s why we tweet only about the good things that happen, so that we pretend that we too are perfect. I don’t think we see that in fact we just create images for ourselves and others that the grass in fact is greener on the other side. In this case, on the other side of the screen, or the keyboard. I wonder if our children would be even more detached, even more digital and cold, and less human than we are. And I’m sorry for that.
Mmm mmm mmm mmm – Crash test dummies
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The phone in my hand, feels like a brick stone, a heavy burden I cannot throw away. Though I should. Throw it through a glass window; see it all go to pieces. Stop calling me. Every time I turn around they are there. I won’t answer when they call because I can’t think anymore. This is terror, people always wanting a word, always knowing where you are and what you are doing. How dependent we humans have become.
Telephone- Lady Gaga
I am searching for new things, ‘because I have fallen for all the temptation of this futuristic world. I don’t know what or where it all went wrong, but somehow I have gotten so far away from who I am, that I am scared I can’t find my way back. I miss standing heart to heart and being real with each other. Not texting, not tweeting, not “liking your status” on Facebook. I don’t want this digital social connection no more, I want reality. The real world. We are blinded by all this technical wonders, and we need to be real, we need the warmth of the touch to stay human.
Blinded by the dark – The pusher
I’m dying for the company of something I can touch. Not a friendly e-mail or tweet, but a real handshake or a hug. I can’t take any more of this digital realness we have crated. I hate even the music which is auto tuned so much it sound like robots singing, or pictures photo shopped out of this world. What it is it with this day in age, where nothing is real? Where nothing is allowed to be real. We have to make everything seem perfect, and keep on dancing until the world ends. And since perfection is so unreal, and created, we all falter, we all feel like disappointments.
Till the world ends- Britney Spears
All it takes is the moon shining light on something we cannot bear to watch. In its murky light, maybe we will see everything clearer? That in its flawed realness a picture is actually perfect. That it is the sun shining on me and you that will only be real when we are outside in true sunlight. Like the first real warm sun hitting your face in the spring, after a long and cold winter, making freckles magically appear. That is when life is real, when it is perfect.
Wildflower –Cee Lo
Faith is so many things, but all in all it is the hands of faith which makes up life, which gives us stories. Not all is good, and maybe that’s why we flee into this unreal, made-up perfectionistic digital world. Maybe that’s why we tweet only about the good things that happen, so that we pretend that we too are perfect. I don’t think we see that in fact we just create images for ourselves and others that the grass in fact is greener on the other side. In this case, on the other side of the screen, or the keyboard. I wonder if our children would be even more detached, even more digital and cold, and less human than we are. And I’m sorry for that.
Mmm mmm mmm mmm – Crash test dummies
The wait..
I wait for progress. I wait for development. And I hope, I hope so hard it hurts my heart. And every time the results are negative, I lose everything. My sanity. My breath. Hope.
It flies out of me, out of my house and it leaves me and my husband all alone in this dark, cold world. And for every time we have to pick ourselves up, put ourselves together, we lose a little bit of ourselves and our sense of belonging. We start thinking about the alternatives, pretending that there are alternatives, pretending that we will be all right. But we know we are fooling ourselves. We know, but we don’t tell. In fact we don’t even tell each other. “We will be fine”, he says to me. “As long as we have each other”, I answer him.
But will it really be enough? The black hole grows bigger and bigger and it is so filled up with despair, that it hurts my chest each time I breathe. And as my heart pounds, I feel the accusation; “all-your-fault, all-your-fault” It is me who is not working, who is not able to give him what we need, what we want. If he left me for another, she would be able to give him the world, and I… I would be all alone with just the thought of not being good enough.
I pray for miracles, ‘cause I’ve seen it happen to others. But in my mind, I fear I am not deserving enough, good enough, to receive this blessing. My husband says he has always had this feeling, that he would not father a child, and I too fear that this will be our reality. This hopelessness has taken my heart hostage, and I can’t free myself from it. I see no light in the end of the tunnel. I see only pain and disappointment.
Oh, I have never wanted anything more in my life, I see it so clearly, and still I can’t reach it. I can feel its weight in my arms when I close my eyes, but when I look down, I am holding on to nothing, not even hope.
It flies out of me, out of my house and it leaves me and my husband all alone in this dark, cold world. And for every time we have to pick ourselves up, put ourselves together, we lose a little bit of ourselves and our sense of belonging. We start thinking about the alternatives, pretending that there are alternatives, pretending that we will be all right. But we know we are fooling ourselves. We know, but we don’t tell. In fact we don’t even tell each other. “We will be fine”, he says to me. “As long as we have each other”, I answer him.
But will it really be enough? The black hole grows bigger and bigger and it is so filled up with despair, that it hurts my chest each time I breathe. And as my heart pounds, I feel the accusation; “all-your-fault, all-your-fault” It is me who is not working, who is not able to give him what we need, what we want. If he left me for another, she would be able to give him the world, and I… I would be all alone with just the thought of not being good enough.
I pray for miracles, ‘cause I’ve seen it happen to others. But in my mind, I fear I am not deserving enough, good enough, to receive this blessing. My husband says he has always had this feeling, that he would not father a child, and I too fear that this will be our reality. This hopelessness has taken my heart hostage, and I can’t free myself from it. I see no light in the end of the tunnel. I see only pain and disappointment.
Oh, I have never wanted anything more in my life, I see it so clearly, and still I can’t reach it. I can feel its weight in my arms when I close my eyes, but when I look down, I am holding on to nothing, not even hope.
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