Sometimes forever doesn’t really last forever. And sometimes, it really isn’t meant to. But we try anyway. To hold on to that one person we thought we would love unconditionally. Or to that object that once brought us indescribable amounts of joy. Or even that fleeting memory of a moment so sweetly soulful that you thought nothing could possibly come and taint it. I once was told that different people come at various points in your life to teach you something then flutter away like a leaf falling from a tree. I believe that that is the same for certain things we think are special or even memories we so badly want to keep but end up hurting us in the end. We must learn the hard way, the sad way, the painful way… the real-life way. Forever isn’t always. Not always. Sometimes. But not always.
It had been the best three months I had spent focused on one man. I couldn’t understand the hold he had on me. It felt so real, so genuine, so… beautiful. And yet the stone cold truth, the obvious pink elephant in the room still stomped its way through my mind now and again. He was leaving in a few weeks.
I felt like I had such a short time with him left. Where had all the moments gone? Where were all the minutes that ticked by so fast being thrown away to? I’d feel this small pain in the pit of my stomach at the thought of being alone again. I didn’t want to be alone again, to have to search for new love again. I knew I wouldn’t find something like this. Already I was sure , in the short amount of time I had known him, that I wanted to spend my future with him. Yet, he had never shown a reflection of my sentiments… I wasn’t sure he even felt the same way. Did he? Did he feel for me the way I felt for him? I badly wanted him to. So badly. To care. To love. To want me like I wanted him. Afraid of being hurt, I played along with the casual. The usual. The normal. I fought to keep my feelings inside. He couldn’t see that I was squirming inside like a child tied down to this wildly uncomfortable seat called uncertainty. I didn’t allow him to see it. These things he had done… things he was doing to me.
Two months before he left… Seeing him had become natural. We would go out for lunch dates or watch a movie at the cinemas or play a few tennis matches or just kiss to our hearts content whenever I would go over to his house. He would never go beyond that. He was, in every sense of the word, a gentleman. And he literally was a gentle man. I’d do anything he asked without a hesitant or doubtful thought. I guess I had resigned to the fact that while this would come to a crashing halt soon, there was nothing to do but enjoy the sweet memories we were gathering together. Maybe, just maybe, our story would have a happy ending somewhere along the way.
One month before he left… He came to me with a gift one night. It wasn’t anything fancy. It wasn’t a huge splurge to express some insurmountable form of affection he had. It was small. Simple. Thoughtful. A lovely little neck ornament that he had gotten during a previous trip he had been on. I loved it immediately he handed it to me. He had sprayed a little of his addictive cologne on it. That slight hint of masculinity, fresh scent of energy and laced deeply with undertones of sensuality. I knew wearing it could very well inadvertently focus my thoughts on him every second of every day. It was a bad idea to take it. Why did I want another reminder of this ludicrously amazing man?
Then he took my hands. He flipped the face of the ornament to its other side. I felt my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach. I could feel my body shake, my hands quivering a little as I read the small engraved letters and symbol on the ornament. *** I ❤ U ***. I looked up at his face. His wonderfully perfect smiling face was beaming down at me. He silently whispered, “I Love You”.
I let it sink in. Slowly. He loved me? Was he fucking serious? Now he tells me? But he had said it… He had said it out loud… He had told me to my face… He. Loved. Me. And with a sigh filled with a myriad of emotions, I took him into my open arms. I silently whispered into his ears choking back a tiny whimper of joy and said ” I Love You Too “.
I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next though…
I’ll be leaving soon…
That’s what he told me five months before he left me. I had just met him. I barely knew him. But I felt my heart hang a little. I had no chance with him, I knew that from the moment he stepped into the little café in that navy blue suit that fit him like a glove. He was sexy, confident, classy, collected, mysterious… Self-assured, the way he carried himself. Out of my league by a 1000 miles. Why did my world stop a little then when he said he would be leaving ? I probably wasn’t his type. And it didn’t look like he was ever going to be mine anyway. I shifted nervously in my skinny jeans and pulled my hoodie a little tighter round my body. He must have thought I looked like such a child, a teenager with nothing to bring to the table that he hadn’t already seen before. I glanced outside and let the silence drift over for a while. It had gotten a little cold and started to drizzle outside. I looked back at his face, into those beautiful eyes that were intimidating, shielded, wise… I smiled. He was leaving, he’d said. Then I’d enjoy getting to know this man in the time I had left.
Four months before he left… He whoops my ass in a little friendly competition of lawn tennis. It pissed me off especially after having talked some huge shit about wiping the floor with his sorry little rear on the court. I was sportsman enough not to whack him with my racquet like a sore loser. And he was gentleman enough not to throw my trash talk in my face. It was sweet. I hated how sweet he was. It would have been so easy not to admit I was starting to like him with how bloody sweet and nice and cute he was being. His charm was getting to me. Sigh* and that knowing smile he had on when I made a funny comment. The polite little laughs that he let out once in a while that had me screaming inside like a little girl when the boy she likes gives her some attention. I was so close to falling for him… I so badly wanted to fall for him… But I knew I couldn’t.
Three months before he left… Movie meet-ups had become a regular thing with him and I. He so graciously let me pick the movies we would watch all the time. I secretly thought he just wanted to give me the idea that I had a little power in this little friendship we had formed. Or maybe it’s just because I was way more of a movie buff than he was. He made fun of my love for animated movies constantly but found himself loving them anyway. I enjoyed watching him watch things that I put on. Watching him light up when he got excited. Watching his fixation on the screen when he focused on an intense scene. Almost like a little force had pulled me to him, I lay my head on his shoulder. My heart was beating fast as I felt him tense when my head rested on him. I prayed he would be fine with it, that he would let me just lay it there for a few moments. It was the first sign of remote affection I had put across to him. The moments that followed were so desperately painstaking… would he move away? Would he shut me out and discard my hint of affection. I let out a little breath, about to move my head away from him, feeling a little unwanted. Then I felt his head lay on mine. The whiff of his intoxicatingly attractive scent filled me and had me in the clouds in ecstasy. Skin on skin, and then hand in hand as he took my hand playfully intertwining his and my fingers. When the movie ended, I took a little peak at his face again. He had a smile I hadn’t seen before wrapped across his face. He was beautiful.
I hated having to leave for home that evening. I wished I could stay longer. I walked to the door while hopping and putting on my shoes. I was afraid I would look at him again, see him smile and actually turn around and get back onto his couch. I really didn’t want to leave. Just as I grabbed the door handle, I felt him wrap his arms around me from the back. I stopped abruptly. My heart had stopped. This wasn’t happening! He slowly turned me around so that we were face to face. This really wasn’t happening! He pushed me gently so that I could feel the wall pressing against my back. Please tell me this wasn’t happening! He whispered something sweet. I barely caught it because my heart was beating so fast I felt like it would rip itself out of my chest. This was actually happening!!! He slowly moved his face closer to mine, moved his hands from my waist to my face. His hands were warm and comforting. I felt myself get weak as his lips finally met mine. The electricity that ran through my body left me holding onto him for support. How could a simple small kiss feel so earth shattering. I wanted his soft, smooth lips to stay where they were forever.
Finally. This felt like home. He felt like home. I was home.
I wake up every single day thinking that things will be different. That people will be different. That situations will be different. That everything will just be different. Different from how they were just a few hours before, when I lay my head down to rest. Its almost laughable how much I want things to change when I disappear mentally and then emerge from the dreams that have tormented me all through that period.
Hoping somehow, miraculously, they would stop… for once in their lives that they would just stop for a second and look at what’s right in front of them… But they can’t. They won’t. They just don’t. They never do. They don’t see me pound my fists into the wall and scream silently into the thin cold air surrounding me. They don’t see just how much I have to take on. Constantly. Every minute of every hour of every day. They have no idea what it’s like now to suffer silently. Alone. Isolated. … absolutely none. They don’t understand. They don’t understand me. Why can’t they see it? How could they be so blind?
They that know me, are always around me and see me more than anyone else. They refuse to open their eyes and watch me cry… fall… die every single moment. Strength leaves me when they turn their backs and go on with life like there was nothing wrong. Like nothing is the matter. I don’t blame them. After all, this is my life. These are my problems. These are my own battles to be fought and wars to be won. Battles that do not invite friends or comrades to ride in arm in arm and take them on. Wars that cannot be risked with the volatility and fatalities they envision even if they were to softly flicker past me.
Maybe this is just one of life’s teachings. That being thrown into these endless spirals of confusion can somehow force one to find some order through all the chaos surrounding them. That these murky depths you wade through will clear away with time. That maybe the darkness won’t seem so dark after you let it become your friend. And that maybe the light won’t burn your eyes when you walk out into the sun.
These are the battles I have to fight alone. But somehow, I guess that’s a good thing. It will make me stronger. It will make me powerful. My walls won’t be broken down so easily when I’ve got my own back to begin with. It’s time that I took my suffering into my own hands and turned it into the joy and happiness I dream about… The happiness that mocks me by its elusive touch every single night I drift into the stars. Its time I walked this journey alone. To find myself. Recreate Myself. Finally forming what it is I really want.
Sometimes we do things for people that we love or care about and they could be small gestures of companionship or huge extravagant displays of affection. We give of our time, effort and even money because this individual means a lot to us. And when it’s all said and done, you look back and subconsciously expect a return in some way. You expect a little gift of appreciation, a tiny show of gratitude, or even a simple thank you. You expect the person to lavish you with a little praise at the sacrifice you’ve made, however little it may be. You just expect something. Anything. There’s the problem though. You’re expecting it.
Here is the thing. More often than not, we will get really disappointed because people don’t exactly show appreciation for what we do for them. And this doesn’t just go for a deed done for someone. This could be in the form of other expectations. Maybe your parents didn’t show up to a huge performance you had, or your siblings forget an important occasion in your life like a birthday. Your best friend, boyfriend/girlfriend or close friend are also frequently guilty of this a lot of the time. It may be a little painful when your boyfriend or girlfriend doesn’t communicate with you about something you both planned especially when you’ve looked forward to whatever you had arranged. There’s always one thing or other.
It’s taken a while for me to understand certain things about life, but then again, you learn as you grow. Human nature is predictable. It’s natural to expect all of this. To expect the sweet smiles thrown at you for that nice thing you did or to expect all the other “duties” loved ones should be doing without reminders or prompts for attention. But all you end up creating is a huge bucket of disappointment. I’m guilty of that, I used to feel like such a dumbass most times for getting the idea that I had been shortchanged. I felt silly and sad when I expected one thing or the other from someone and they went and did something completely opposite. It just sucked major balls.
One thing I learned from my best friend though, that I absolutely am grateful for, is the realization of the fact that at the end of the day, who do you really do what you do for? Isn’t it yourself? Don’t you feel a little warm sunny side up feeling when you do something for someone, even though you’re doing it for them essentially? When we start to focus on that feeling, that great feeling that comes out of you just doing something cool for someone, you alter your expectations or even lose them altogether. It really isn’t about them anymore. It’s about you now. It’s all about you. Expectations are just another one of life’s little double-edged swords. They could either stab you or they could slice a few good ones in your favor. So why not just forget the expectations? Or rather downplay them in a way. Now I don’t mean you go out and be a bloody pessimist. No. I would never ask someone to be as bitter and depressed as that. I just want you to understand that having high expectations isn’t always the best thing. You do you for you. Even if you’re doing it for someone else, you do it for you first. Trust me, things become so much simpler.
I love that little statement. I first heard it on Mark E Miller’s YouTube channel. He called out to his boyfriend Ethan and said, “Yo, Ethan, it’s gonna be a great day and do you know why?” I half-expected some answer like “Because we are getting a new car.” Or “Because we are going on a road trip,” or “Because we’re chilling together all day today.” But then Ethan said, “Because everyday is a great day.”
I think I just melted when he said that. It wasn’t all that extraordinary or mind-blowing. It was just… like you know that moment when someone says something so small and simple-sounding and but actually carries a lot of weight? That’s what I got from it. It was such a tiny little beautiful thing to say and even I started to say it time and again. My family thought I was just being a little weird but then they kinda got into it too after a while.
Mark recently posted a video explaining why he always says that at the beginning of all his other videos and I thought it was pretty relatable. It made me think about just how grateful I am to be who I am, to be where I am at this moment in time, with all the amazing people in my life that surround me. But just because I tell myself that everyday is a great day in my head, doesn’t mean that everyday will feel like sunshine, rainbows and My Little Ponies. It’s not always going to be easy or fun or a ball of positivism.
There are always going to be days that you feel like a shit-storm of problems just happens to be pounding you from every single direction. It sucks, but that’s life. We just have to live and learn and laugh about it in the end. I know for a fact that we do create our own happiness through how we choose to act or react and the attitude with which we take on everything that comes our way. That’s why I choose to live my life like everyday is my last day. Like every breath I take is my last one instead of trying to be so focused on the little things… The little things should never be exaggerated into a big deal in your life. It doesn’t matter. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Just have a party with your life.
I say this all the time but I never get tired of saying it, I don’t want to look back on my life in my death bed and wish I had done way more with it. That I’d eaten more ice-cream and chocolate instead of torturing myself everyday with some lousy 0% fat diet. That I had spent more time with my family and close friends rather than working 10-12 hours a day because of the stress of putting food on the table. I’ll make sure my kids will know me as an amazing father that took them to school everyday, had dinner with them every night, tucked them in and kept them safe by scaring the little monsters away. That I will always be with them through the great and not-so-great moments in their lives. I won’t let money or time influence my decision to take a vacation, whether it’s a weekend or a month off, in some amazing exotic destination whether locally or internationally. I refuse to be disappointed with the dash in between the day I was born and the day I die.
And that’s why I love that statement. That everyday really is a great day. It really is when, in Kris Allen’s words, you live like your dying.
p.s I do not own rights to the media put up on this blog, it is only for illustration purposes. Media was picked from www.nydailynews.com, www.tourdefit.com, markplusethan.tumblr.com, theithacan.org .
He was with another man tonight. That’s what he told me. That he was out, having fun, partying, drinking… with this other man. Why does it bother me? Why should it bother me? He isn’t mine. He never was. He never will be. So why is the fact that he was in another man’s arms make me want to puke. Why does the fact that he looked at this man the same way he looked at me once before making me want to tear his eyes out? Why in the hell does his tipsy smile keep popping into my head, that tipsy smile he always had before he leaned in to kiss me… softly… sweetly… slowly… I hate him so much right now. He doesn’t know that it hurts to tell me. He isn’t mine. I know that. But it still hurts when I see him happy with that nice-looking guy he is arm-in-arm with at dinner or laughing with in that movie theatre.
He doesn’t regret that I am not that man lying next to him in bed when the sun comes up. He isn’t fazed that I am not the one sitting across from him at that diner where we first met and like to visit on occasion. He is fine with the fact that I am not his little sweetheart walking through the park in the light of the stars and the full moon tonight while holding hands. And it kills me. I could have had him. He could have been mine. I could be that man right now. That could be me. That should be me. I deserve him. After being there for him through everything he had going on. After proving to him I can make him happy for a lifetime. I made him smile and laugh after all the pain he had gone through before. I made him feel safe in my arms when he felt all alone. We talked for hours and hours about nothing and everything, making fun about the little things that happened in our days away from each other. I made him feel loved. And I fell in love.
Why did I let him in? Why did I let him pull the curtains away and leave me naked and bare for him to see? He knows me… he knows every little part of me… I let him in… and now, there is no turning back. He has me. He knows he has me. But all he can give me is half of him. Half of everything I have ever given to him. Half of him will never be enough. And maybe he realizes that. Maybe he sees that and wants to play around with me like I am his little toy. Pulling me in, making me want him, making me beg for his affection, making me crave his touch, his voice, his lips moving through my body from my face to my lips to my chest… all the way down my body… held in his arms where I know I can’t get burned by him.
Then, just as he pulls me in, he drops me like I am nothing. Like I mean nothing to him. I guess that’s what I really am. Nothing at all. He doesn’t need me to survive. And that’s why he can go out and have his fun. He can have all his fun with this other man. This other man that’s stolen him away from me. Even if I deserve him. Even if I want him and need him. Even if I miss him… and even if I love him. But I can’t have him. And I have to be ok with that. I chose to go down this road. I broke my walls down for him. I am to blame for this emptiness. This void that he has left me feeling where my heart used to be. I can only blame myself for a heart that was crushed into a thousand little pieces.
So here I am… Living. No. Existing. Because life isn’t life without him.
P.S. I have no rights to the media shown in this blog, they are plainly meant for illustration purposes. Media is gotten from pinterest.com, thenarcissisticanthropologist.com, etc.
Happy New Year! Or Is it belated New Year. Meh, whatever. I realize it’s been a minute since I last blogged. It’s been a crazy past January, what with university starting up again, doing the end of last semester’s exams, my epic birthday-which I got to celebrate on four different days including my birthday. Best birthday ever, I have to say. My favorite one of those days had to be dinner with my amazing boyfriend. It was one of the best nights I’ve had in a while. Sometimes I feel like he spoils me way more than I appreciate him for. However one thing I never stop doing is making sure he knows just how much he means to me and how grateful I am for everything he does for us. And I think at the end of the day that’s the most important thing. Just loving and being grateful for that amazing person you call your wingman/wingwoman.
So, since I haven’t been here a while, I thought I might just start the blog this year with something as random as I am. Therefore, without further ado, here are my top five fetishes. This should be fun, I don’t think I have ever told anyone of these little guilty pleasures. #FetishFebruary.
A Nice Cut
Now I love a man who can rock anything on his body. However, hair (or lack thereof it) happens to be one of my super magnets if not the number one. I personally respect a guy who decides to go out and do something crazy or cool or fresh with his hair. It doesn’t matter whether you’ve got lots of hair, a little hair, or no hair, as long as you are rocking that sexy new cut and you look like a million dollars just paid for it then I think you might as well take home a Sexiest Man Alive Academy Award. Ok, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but hey, it’s the truth. I remember a time way back when the sight of a good looking guy with a nice cut walking down the street would make me imagine some crazy random street sex. I know. Very weird. Anyway, you get my drift. A nice cut is a panty dropper.
An Epic Tattoo
They say art is the best form of self expression; it’s not as straightforward as music. Most of the time, its left to anyone who looks at it-whether a painting, a drawing, a sketch, a mash up of different color pencils-to find their own meaning in it, whatever it may be. Maybe that’s why I love tattoos so much. They can mean whatever you want them to mean. That is unless you get a stupid one like a crazy demon head with you ex-lover’s name on it riding a fire wave. No offense to you though, if you like that kind of thing.
I do find men who have art on their body very enticing. I guiltily had a daydream once or twice in my head where I traced out art on a beautiful man’s body softly with my finger, mesmerized by the intricate placement of ink on skin. Then I would slowly lick the well placed masterpiece on his body as I slowly moved my hands all over him… Long story short, tattoos are sexy, they make more people than you think hard in their pants and we should all get one at least once in our lives. Especially if it’s temporary, you can experiment with all kinds of designs and all. Its loads of fun, I’ve had a few of those since I plan to get one or two real tattoos soon.
A Great Set of Arms
As silly as this sounds, I used to imagine having a handsome dude with Chris Hemsworth/Chris Evan-like arms to come and whisk me off into the night and make love to me surrounded by nature, like in the deep centre of a redwood forest. I know people are obsessed with six pack abs and that perfectly sculpted v-line that ends up in a hopefully beautiful way below the belt. I guess I just enjoy the thought of a man that’s got some nicely developed bulky arms that can carry me up as we have wild sex against the wall or on the kitchen counter or just being flipped anywhere and everywhere in the bedroom. Ha. I don’t have big arms myself so I couldn’t exactly be choosy with the man I would someday land when I was hunting. But I wouldn’t mind getting myself a good set of guns and taking my boyfriend on a dangerously sexy ride to wherever sexy rides end up. *Sly Smile*.
Sexy Pair of Underwear
Probably one of my favorites fetishes is underwear of any form as long as it hugs that booty like there is no tomorrow. My personal favorites of mainstream underwear are briefs and boxer briefs. I recently got a new pair of pitch black ones for my birthday and I am obsessed with them. Also got another pair of red-black ones and while I am not the biggest fan of anything other than the grays, blues or blacks, this pair actually made me want to go out and experiment with different underwear colors. Maybe spray some rainbow pride on them. I’m thinking luminous blue next time I get myself a pair. Or not. *Side-eye*. Ha. I think I would just die if someone got me that. I mean, I’d be nice about it, say thank you and all. Then I’d probably just throw it in the back pile where it the light of day would be a myth that the other boxers only speak of once in a while to make it feel like a real boxer.
Of course, we are not going to play over the fact that some crazy good lingerie exists out there. I have to say, this probably is at the heart of my underwear fetish. I mean, just a look at a nice little jockstrap or thong hanging in a shop gets me hard with anticipation as I start to imagine scenarios involving them and possibly a naughty strip tease. Mhmm. One of the best, and definitely my favorite male lingerie designer, has to be Andrew Christian. He has the best collection in my opinion. It’s fresh and sexy and sensual and diverse in every way. I effing love his work, it’s so well put together, and you are assured that the benefactors of that splendid show on your body will be begging for more. I was gifted a pair of lingerie from one of his collections and my jaw dropped at how bloody brilliant they are whether they are on or off. Get yourself a pair, you definitely won’t be disappointed. Check out his stuff on his site http://www.andrewchristian.com
Ass… Just Ass…
Two words. Matt Bomer. Enough said. I can’t. I just can’t. I tried to can but failed miserably. I mean… What the heck is up with that backside? Like, does someone get surgery for that? It’s like an eighth wonder of the world. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a backside for days. Perfectly round and firm and… Seriously? O.o
I have no rights to the media posted on this blog. The media used is basically for illustration purposes alone. Media has been taken from pinterest.com, andrewchristian.com, tumblr.com etc
Sometimes you will have the people closest to you break you down. Down to the cold hard ground. It could be your family. Your best friend. Your boyfriend or your girlfriend. Heck, it could be someone you met off the street five minutes ago. Most times, they do it unintentionally, not knowing that they have offended or hurt you. But when that rare time comes… when it is so plainly directed at you that you can feel the detest behind it, the disgust woven around it. The anger and fury seeping through its large cracks. The unfiltered malice that comes from its deep depths. Then… At that time… It goes so fast from breaking you down to you breaking down. It’s painful. It hurts. It really hurts.. Because you can feel all that emotion coming at you and you just don’t know where to take it. It starts to build inside you, growing…bubbling…rising up like a flood of searing magma.
It slowly gets to the surface. Fiery and forceful, it wants to get out. It so badly wants to get out. It so badly wants to be free of its bondage. It so badly just wants to be gone. But you hold it down. You hold it down because you can’t show weakness. You can’t show them you’re struggling to keep it under control. You can’t show them that whatever they are saying is getting to you. You’ve got to let them see that they are not winning. At all costs. But then, the fierce emotions being forced down, the pressure of trying to hold it all in… It’s becoming harder by the second. It’s daring you to let that final blow connect with your heart and soul. Its daring you to let the trigger be pulled with you staring down a barrel of a gun. Its daring you to let the words drop you into an endless dark spiral.
And just when you think it’s all over… It comes out. So silent. So simple. Like a whisper in a large and empty meadow. Soft. Slow. The words you have dreaded hearing throughout this time come crashing into you like a 100 tonne truck going 200 miles an hour. You’re pushed over the edge of a cliff. You’re falling. You can’t catch yourself. You are trying for the life of you to stop yourself but you can’t. You just can’t. Like a wild volcanic explosion, every single emotion inside of you breaks out. Everything you’ve worked so hard to hide, to shield, and to separate yourself from. It all comes out. The walls you had up are broken down almost like they never even existed. You’ve lost all control. All you can feel are the tears rolling down your face. Never-ending. You can feel your body trembling with every nerve driving on overload. Your breaths… shallow, fast… You tell yourself to breathe slowly. Breathe slow. Conceal it. Stop it. Now!
But it’s too late. You are defeated. They have won. The battle is lost. You gave in. Still… the emotions, they flow out. Those cursed emotions. They do not cease even as your adversary moves away and beams in his victory. You walk back to your depression-filled den wondering where you go from there. What next. Then, you catch yourself. A sharp breath taken in. It stops as suddenly as it started. It drifts into the dark corners of your den as if deserting you. It fades away into thin air leaving you there. All by yourself. With nothing but your thoughts.
They say after the storm comes sunshine. That out of every negative comes a positive. You smile. First it’s just a bitter smile, but then you realize… Your heart is welling up again. You’re fresh. The pain is gone. The hurt still throbs deep in your soul but it too, like emotion, is fading away. Your body… its yours again. You have control back. You are fine now. Everything is fine. Everything is ok. Everything is going to be alright. You’ve just let yourself be human. For once. For once in your life. You’ve let yourself be human. And now, you can move on, aware that you are stronger. That you are stronger than you were before. And you can live to fight another day.
I’ve only ever had one emotional breakdown in my life. That is, before this morning. I didn’t think I’d have to go through this anytime soon. I gave it at least five years before this happened and that was just me throwing a number round. But then again, life is life. And you can never fully predict what happens, especially when someone you love is the person that brings you your grief.
What you can do though is to control the outcome. Come out of it stronger. Bigger. Better. You will go through a lot of heart-ache in your life. The most important thing is whether you make the decision to let that determine your life going forward or crush it in your palms and just start over. There is only one you on this earth. And you only have one life to live. Don’t let anything stop you from living it. Keep your head up. Chin up. And SMILE. It never really is that serious.
“Never hate people who are jealous of you, but respect their jealousy. They’re people who think that you’re better than them.”
Picture courtesy of http://www.looksharpconnie.com
You want to believe that everyone that calls you a good friend would really believe what that actually means. You know, they’d have your back, stick up for you when someone calls out bullshit in your name, be there for you when you need them, laugh and cry and reminisce with them about past experiences… The whole 100 yards. That’s what friends are for. And not just friends, but genuinely good friends. It sucks though, when you realize that some just don’t want to see you succeed. Whether in business-your journey to success and wealth in abundance or relationships-that amazing long term relationship that you have but they don’t. Is it because they feel threatened? Deeply seated jealousy? Cold blooded envy? Or are they just sad, depressed narcissistic individuals that just want to see you wallow in your sadness which brings them joy? I wouldn’t know… I’m not, never have been and will never be, one of those people that find displeasure in one’s happiness. However, I found out there are always people looking to stir that pot and try and belittle or ruin whatever you’re working toward in your life.
I’ve been in a relationship for quite a while now. Of course it hasn’t been without its little ups and downs. Still, best part of being completely in love with someone who feels the same way about you is that you both work it out for the best. You don’t try. You just do. No two ways about it. Only a few of my closest friends know I who I’m dating and I like it that way. It’s less drama, less scrutiny, less talk behind your back… less of everything. It’s pretty blissfully uneventful that way. But then it becomes a little silly when a friend of yours who hasn’t had a great relationship experience in the past tries to poke holes in your own life just to see you grovel in the same bowl as them.
A few days ago, I caught wind that one of my friends, *Carl, who I have come to respect and grown a bit fond of, was insinuating lightly that I may be cheating on my boyfriend or rather seeing someone at the same time. He is one of the few who knows I am in a long term relationship that I am working hard at and giving my all. He recently had a falling out with a guy he was pursuing but that’s none of my business especially since I had warned him beforehand. *Sips Chai Tea*. Anyway, Carl is quite dramatic for a man his age and while it doesn’t really bother me as he never involves me in his ludicrous theatrics, I got firsthand experience of just how bloody childish he can be.
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I had earlier posted about my new best friend, who I’ve known for a little over five months now and have come to love and understand and be open to in ways I wouldn’t open up to with anyone else. Now, we spend a heck of a lot of time together. We get each other and love hanging out together, whether it’s a pizza date or movie, ice-cream binge or drinks… We just chill together and catch up as often as we can. Now Carl has been quite curious about this guy I call my best friend because I have wildly praised him as a unique and beautiful friend to have. He doesn’t understand what I see in him as I have known him-Carl- longer and I assume he probably thought I would have more of a deeper relationship with him rather than my current best friend.
Anyway, Carl contacted my best friend somehow and started to “interrogate” him about his relationship with me. He asked some honestly, in my opinion, *stupid* questions. He actually had the audacity to ask my best friend, knowing full well I am in a relationship, whether we were dating. Whether we have had sex and if not, would like to pursue anything remotely sexual with me. Whether he has tried anything with me. Whether I am open to practically cheating on my boyfriend for a one time thrill that may be recurring. He was basically asking questions anyone who is fishing for scandalous and de-edifying information could use to most probably cause a rift in my relationship with my boyfriend. My best friend, being the smart guy he is, could already tell where Carl was trying to take this, shut him down so swiftly, he must have felt a slight pang of guilt for even thinking in his line of thought in the beginning. He then sent me screenshots of his conversation with Carl asking me what kind of friends call themselves friends with such tendencies.
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I was furious. I was bubbling like hot steamy acid waiting to shoot out and wound anyone who would cross me. I couldn’t believe what Carl was trying to pull off here. Almost immediately though, I calmed down and understood he could’ve just been jealous and wanted to formulate a dramatic situation to match his more than epically failed love story. I understood that there are people out there that just can’t stand the thought of you being happier than they are. But then again, while envy may drive them to a few extremes, they always do get what’s coming to them in the end.
I won’t confront Carl about what he did. But I am not afraid of cutting a bitch if he tries to screw up my life or the relationship with the one I love. I couldn’t be more frank about returning the favor if one tries to f**k up something I have worked so hard to see succeed such as my relationship. And I will make anyone’s life a living hell if they try and mess with me or anything around me I value with my life.