Day 1

‘Make sure they love you first and that the affection is not returned’ is what my mother always used to say. If only we could apply Bertolt’s verfremdungseffekt to the world, we’d all be happy. At least I would. Second time around and I’m still naïve as I ever was. ‘Normal’ he said. What’s normal anyway? I forget what the word means. Say it enough and it doesn’t mean anything at all. How much I have suffered, and for what? Do I dare to make a list to tally up how much of a waste the last two years were? Why bother, that in itself is pointless. ….Now, when I look back I wonder why I let myself go through this day by day as our relationship started cracking. It’s similar to when you get attached to something. It becomes apart of you and that’s when you are afraid to let it go. I’m scared.

We fucked yes. Let that be granted. It was not real. None of it was considering that everything was based upon words on a screen. The connection was there despite the 3,000 miles of ocean separating us. Did I enjoy the it? Saying no would bring me against all that I stand for, which is honesty. Yes. I found it pleasurable the times he sucked me dry and penetrated me in places morally wrong. I loved and hated it. I found it ironically similar to what Blanche says to Stella about her and Stanley. He ‘took her from her heights and brought her down’ just as he has done to me. Now I find the very thought sickening like dry shit wafting in the wind on a hot summer’s day.

Tennessee has captured the intellect and attitude which I have found in him, 'Thousands and thousands of years have passed him right by, and there he is - survivor of the Stone Age! Bearing the raw meat home from the kill in the jungle! Night falls and the other apes gather! There in the front of the cave, all grunting like him, and swilling and gnawing and hulking! Somebody growls - some creature snatches at something - the fight is on! God...Don't - don't hang back with the brutes!' and I did hang back. I let myself and if given the chance, I’d do it again, just as I had done before. Contradictory you might say, but I’m hopeless when it comes to dealing with my heart. In the end it always prevails.

If only Prozium existed.

For some reason it’s different this time. Sure there were tears but they seem to have faded along with him. I do not know if the realisation of the fact that it is well and truly over has hit me yet. I wish it would hurry and get on with it. Last year it had taken me months to become emotionally stable, trying to put on a brave face in front of everybody. You can’t imagine how hard that was. At least now he has given me sufficient warning. Thanks?

I don’t feel anything at all. ‘Free’ I suppose. Free in the sense of the bird from the birdman of Alcatraz or McMurphy from his asylum. This time I think there won’t be as much heart ache, if none at all. From the moment he speculated over somebody else, I felt my love for him drain like waves upon the sand. Call it jealousy if you will. My heart has been thrown into the fire and the ashes, scattered into the wind, gone far beyond repair. Last year it had been thrown out and fed to the wolves. Which one is better?

The question is, what am I to do now? What do I have left to live for now that all my hopes and dreams have been vanquished? I can’t just simply rewrite my life plan within a matter of minutes. God help me.

Find me. Find me and have me as your beloved. Find me.