What do you want?
Life responds to you, always in a very ironic way. I've been once asked by a man standing in my bedroom: what do you want? I told him I wanted love non-stop. Dedicated love. Passionate love. Love. Love. Love.
Then I got that answer without even asking. He was there, in a different corner in the room - which now looks very different, he was standing too and moving back and forth, telling me that he was doing what he could, he was giving me love 24/7.
This time I was the one who was laughing. Not on purpose. It was like a nervous laughter. Somehow, crying in front of you just so humiliating and this time around I was just so, so tired. I am so numb that I don't care.
Then as if he was trying to bring me back to reality, he held me by my arms and shook me screaming that I was driving him crazy. The truth is I was. I recognize that. Even now I kind of don't understand, why? Why was I driving him crazy and why he did that. I think I empathize a little better with women who suffer from physical abuse. I think that maybe they are so scared they don't believe it happened. Even if you see bruises, you're so shocked that you can't believe what has just happened to you. I perfectly understand he's frustration. It's very difficult to talk to a wall. Maybe if you can break the wall, you'll have the illusion the wall can talk back.
So, it is time for me to answer myself in a more definitive way: is it worth to give it another shot? No. It's not. It's time for me to move on once and for all. I should dry my tears, sew my heart, stop dreaming and chatting with Hope, and just move the fucking on.
Maybe he was the love that I once wanted, but now that's not the love I need.
Then I got that answer without even asking. He was there, in a different corner in the room - which now looks very different, he was standing too and moving back and forth, telling me that he was doing what he could, he was giving me love 24/7.
This time I was the one who was laughing. Not on purpose. It was like a nervous laughter. Somehow, crying in front of you just so humiliating and this time around I was just so, so tired. I am so numb that I don't care.
Then as if he was trying to bring me back to reality, he held me by my arms and shook me screaming that I was driving him crazy. The truth is I was. I recognize that. Even now I kind of don't understand, why? Why was I driving him crazy and why he did that. I think I empathize a little better with women who suffer from physical abuse. I think that maybe they are so scared they don't believe it happened. Even if you see bruises, you're so shocked that you can't believe what has just happened to you. I perfectly understand he's frustration. It's very difficult to talk to a wall. Maybe if you can break the wall, you'll have the illusion the wall can talk back.
So, it is time for me to answer myself in a more definitive way: is it worth to give it another shot? No. It's not. It's time for me to move on once and for all. I should dry my tears, sew my heart, stop dreaming and chatting with Hope, and just move the fucking on.
Maybe he was the love that I once wanted, but now that's not the love I need.
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