I suppose I did it right.
You put a sugar cube on top of the spoon and carefully pour cold water over it. Once the green has turned opaque, it’s perfect.
It’s been twenty minutes since consumption, and I think I’m ready. I was shitting myself this afternoon, dreading this moment and the words that might come out.
I’ve been thinking a lot in the last few weeks, re-occurring thoughts that should have been dealt with a long time ago.
My mind is in flames, yet I see everything clearly. Some pictures of the past won’t catch fire. To tackle this, I will make my confessions. It’s time to let go and face the demons.
Bukowski must have been writing under the same conditions. I’ve always valued his honesty. Some people need to learn how to appreciate honesty. Life is too short for lies and secrets. I consider my life valuable, and mourning over the past won’t fix anything. You can’t fix the past.
It’s time to let go.
I’m going to tag everyone I’m going to mention in this blog post (on Facebook) if you want it or not. You might not want to stay friends afterwards, which is OK. I’ll accept it, but please talk to me before you go. I might not see any of you ever again, but you still deserve to know the truth.
My head is spinning, so I won’t think too hard. I’m going to dedicate this to all the honest people out there. I have no time for white lies, either. In the next few hours, you’ll learn nothing but the truth. This is the only way for me to start a new chapter in my life.
I haven’t always told the truth because I lacked the courage. Therefore, this blog post will be different.
I experienced synchronicity last night, and I knew I was ready to write this because if I don’t do it, shit won’t ever stop haunting me.
I’m not a person who can do the same things over and over. I couldn’t live without the flow of changes, no matter if good or bad. This is why I like to try new things. Not that I often have the chance. Everyone around me is decent and caring; they want the best for me.
Right now, I’m going through a phase where I can’t trust anyone. I’ve always got on better with men, and certain girls often hated me for that, but jealousy is the least of my problems. I trust neither boys nor girls. I’m still learning to trust myself.
I used to write a lot about misogyny. Don’t we all just want the same thing, though? So what if one gender is more sensitive and the other more rational? Who cares? Unfortunately, our two genders make us who we are, and we are doomed to interact with each other.
Boys and girls – this is who we are. However, this co-existence involves trouble. You all know what I’m talking about.
I’ve been through seven years of trouble. We all have stories that made us who we are. Unfortunately, some of us don’t feel it’s necessary to share those stories.
(I’ve had a few sips. My head is pounding, and my heart is racing. My body is warm.)
Someone had stolen four years of my life, and I won’t ever forgive this person. No one has ever lied to me more than he did. I’m the stupid one because I let it happen. I believed in those lies even though I knew they were doing me no good. But once you’re in love, you are no longer yourself. In fact, you become weak. He cheats on you once; you take him back. He cheats on you twice; you take him back. I don’t even want to tell you what I did when he cheated on me for the fifth time.
Looking back makes me want to slap myself in the face. What would you do when someone said to you that they wanted to spend the rest of their life with you, but they just weren’t ready for it? Of course, you are moved! Isn’t it the sweetest thing someone has ever said to you?
Now, imagine this is your boyfriend, who expects you to sit in the corner and wait for him while he goes out to sleep with other girls until he’s ready for you. Do you think I was smart enough back then to realise that this was what he wanted? Me to sit in the corner and wait? That’s what I did. I was too stupid to approach other boys simply because I was blindly in love and insisted on being faithful. But what did I get for it? Nothing.
I let him take me for granted. He used my heart and body to feel better about himself, and it didn’t bother me? I was as faithful as a devout Christian. I mean, didn’t he still want to spend the rest of his life with me? I should have listened to my mother. She says that first love never lasts.
We got together in the spring of 2002. Within two weeks of dating, he’d already started cheating on me. But I didn’t find out until months later. At that time, I was already emotionally attached. I was entirely devoted.
The sad thing is the cheating went on for four years. I know what you’re thinking.
He did love me, but it wasn’t enough. And if you think you can change a person, then think again. Often a person can’t even change by choice, especially if no hard work is involved. You either respect them for who they are or move on. However, I didn’t dare to leave.
He was selfish and indecisive. He bought me a pair of shoes for my birthday and bought himself two pairs because he couldn’t decide which pair he liked better. He always wanted it all. He was the same with girls–possessive and obsessive. He’d expected me to feel special because I was his “favourite.” I mean, who did he think I was? How on earth was I touched by that?
I got into fights with all the girls he was hiding in his bed during my absence, even with this fourteen-year-old. She was a Cancerian like me. She was too young to realise that love makes you blind. I wasn’t experienced enough to see it for myself. After all that, it was worth making friends with just one girl, and that’s Louise. She was the only one who truly loved him, too, but she was told the same lies and got hurt all the same. She is the only good thing that resulted in dating my ex.
At uni, I suffered my first panic attack. I was close to a mental breakdown too. I didn’t know what it was at the time, so I went to the physician’s three times to have myself checked for asthma until she asked me whether I had any mental health problems.
The relationship with my ex went on and off. That is whenever he decided to see someone else behind my back. I remained faithful, and therefore I had missed dozens of opportunities during my time at university. It was one of the best times of my life and one of the most disappointing ones. And I blame my faithfulness. I met so many nice guys who were a hundred times more devoted than my ex, but still, I wouldn’t let them come close to me. Hanging out with them broke their hearts because they couldn’t have me.
The first one who was sweet to me was Steve. After smoking some dope, he would always knock on my door and say, “How are you?” I liked him when he was high; he had this angelic face and dreamy eyes. There was one moment in the student union where I almost kissed him. The thought of my ex ultimately stopped me, though. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt Steve. I’m glad that we’re still friends.
That was confession number one.
The next one who treated me nicely was Pete. My ex and I weren’t dating at the time. And I remember going for a meal with Pete. We had spent hours talking in his dorm room and kissed. This was the furthest I ever got with anyone. Afterwards, I rejected Pete.
The next one I rejected was Sam. Simply by falling out with him and not talking to him for months. I just wanted to be friends, though, because I valued his insights. I still do. I’m glad I reached out to apologise.
Then along came Matthew. Here I could really kill myself for messing up my chances with him. He was wonderful and sincerely in love with me. No one had ever shown me so much respect. He said I made him feel good. Well, he made me feel the same way. But I knew I was hurting him by hanging around with him so much, but it felt so good being with him. Any girl would want someone as dedicated as Matt. When thinking about us two sitting at the noodle bar, exchanging Christmas presents makes me want to cry. Obviously, no one will wait for you if you keep the door shut. My chances with him were officially over.
I dread the next confession. I keep asking myself, what if I only had one day to live. What would I do? I got to know Nick in the second year of uni, but I didn’t think much of him at that time, not until the third year. I saw a sparkle in his eyes, which hit me like a rock, and my emotions (oxytocins?) went haywire. I would never miss his lessons (even skipped a NIN gig to attend his class). My heart would pound crazily during each lesson. I would listen to every word he said. I would read each book that he recommended. He fascinated me; that’s all I can say. I even made him a CD, gave him books to read and talked to him about my favourite band. I was like a stupid smitten teenager. You may call it a stereotype, but I don’t care. My feelings for him were real. If it weren’t for him, my novel wouldn’t exist, and I wouldn’t have had any hope. I might not see him ever again, but I wish I could tell him that he was my muse. Every time my ex hurt me, I had wished to be with Nick.
Towards the end of my stay in England, I was emotionally messed up. Unhappily in love (Nick) and continuously stressed (ex). My ex even threatened to break my nose because I’d told his mother about the underage girl. Police were involved, and I was busy with my final exams. I still wonder how I managed to pass with second class honours, upper-division. I was a mess.
After all, everything was over; I finally removed my ex from my life. Yet, my head was fucked up, and I offered sex to people because I wanted to be cleansed from my ex for good. Chris was the only one who responded. He told me to calm down. Hell knows what I would have done if he hadn’t talked to me. Even now, he keeps telling me to re-connect with my spiritual side. And honestly, I still don’t know what he is talking about.
Since I’m back in Germany, I haven’t had much luck. I’ve only encountered love with geographical issues. Mixen is my first lesson of a one night stand. It wasn’t supposed to be a dreadful bloodbath. But it was okay. I mean, he was honest right from the get-go. Again I was stupid and naive by letting my emotions steer me. I travelled all the way up to Copenhagen to see him. He sent me home the day after. I told myself that it was okay, but I suffered from it for months and started smoking. I met him again not long ago, and I thought we were ok and still friends. A few days ago, he deleted me from Facebook.
This year, I met Dan from London, with whom I had the longest and most refreshing conversation. Talking in English brings me joy. I felt attracted to him. He gave me my fifth kiss. When he returned to England, we stayed in touch. Soon after, I booked a flight and hotel to see him. But hey, bad timing had ruined the trip. It didn’t work out. He got together with his longtime crush, who recently split up with her boyfriend. The only advantage of the trip was to clear my head and eat Chinese pork buns in Chinatown. I needed time to think about what I had been doing with my life. Am I supposed to follow guys around the globe?
I don’t know why I would bleed so much for guys.
And people wonder why I think so little of myself.
I don’t know what I have become. My ex would probably laugh at this. He would probably love to see me like this. He said he would die 23, but he didn’t. He thought the Jimmy Eat World song was some kind of revelation. Apparently not.
I’ve reached the point where I have no more romanticism left for anyone. Has this toughened me up? I don’t know.
Maybe I’ve learned my lessons for not taking my chances.
What are second chances anyway? Who knows whether I’ll meet someone like Matt again? Someone who respects me and doesn’t take me for granted? I know I have to sort myself out. A lover would just complicate my plans. I don’t ever want to be back in that hole.
I’m too tired. All I think about is my family. They are the only people who genuinely care about me and would do anything for me. What distances me from them is that I don’t share these thoughts with them; it’s irrelevant. Plus, why worry them?
This is as honest as I can get. Whether you understand it or not. This blog post is meant to put an end to the past. If some of you feel attacked or offended, then you know what to do.
Thank you for reading.