#iwritewhenimsad

[femmebambi]

You know you truly love something when the mere prospect of having to let it go makes you feel as if your heart is ripping in two. Doing the thing brings you so much joy yet causes many emotionally unhealthy rollercoasters. Not doing the thing, however, leaves a giant void in your heart that you don't know what else can fill. Receiving news of potentially not being able to do the thing leaves you red and crying whilst doing the thing often does the same. All your hard work towards the thing diminished by the people who currently hold the true power over your future. They have no ill intent towards you. However, it feels as if they are taking a dagger directly into your heart and hereby sealing your fate. All the years of catching up and crying in the bathroom mean nothing. All the hours spent working yourself til you were almost falling over wiped away with the stroke of key. All this work to be tossed aside without a second glance. All this effort to be regarded as a failed project. You mean nothing to them. You're a pawn in their game. The game that has unbeknownst to them captured your heart and soul.

☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

[heavenly-sadness]

When I look at these pictures, I just remember holding hands. I remember feeling loved. I remember feeling like someone wanted to hold my hand, like someone wanted to protect me, like someone wanted to give me their coat when I was freezing. I felt the most cared for I’ve ever felt. I felt like I was living something straight out of a romance novel or straight out of a movie. I remember being so incredibly infatuated by this man from the first glance. I remember thinking he was interesting. I remember wanting to hear more.

I remember the night after the mexican dinner. When we went to a bar, had great drinks and really for the first time talked about what we meant to each other. I remember feeling so incredibly full. Just full of… love? We shared the same story. A past relationship that didn’t work out for almost the same sort of reason. The feeling of not being able to ever love again. The feeling of never being able to have someone love us again. The empty feeling after one night stands. The unfulfilling feelings of forcing yourself into new relationships when you weren’t ready. We talked it out. Opened our hearts. I think love really is the best lust-starter. Because that feeling of just blissfulness when you have your feelings of love returned just turned into this half-drunken frenzy of passionately kissing outside the bar. To eyes becoming dark as the midnight sky. To touching me in the backseat of the cab. To making love as crazy as it’s ever been. To slowing down. To hugging. To falling asleep and waking up next to each other. Silent, but still some how telling.

Adventures. Around Seoul, Suwon, and even Busan. Everyday was an adventure. With a new restaurant, a new topic, a new feeling, a new way of showing affection.

What I not so instantly remember is also the almost equal amount of times where a single word turned into aggressive stare-offs and violent sex. Where silence became a tool of punishment and not a sign of peace. Where tears were laughed upon and apologies not accepted. Where pushing and pulling quickly became screaming and radio-silence. I don’t remember the cold and often reoccurring threats of cancelling trips, of breaking up, of going crazy. I don’t often remember the techniques to intimidate. The constant battle of ”winner”. Weren’t we both losers every time?

I remember, then, a love I couldn’t stop. An emotion as unstoppable as the ocean wave. It just consumed me. The bad just somehow made it more real. The bad just somehow made me realize we were both broken creatures trying to fix one another. The bad is what made me addicted. Like a sad 16-hundred century romance novel. Bittersweet.

The anger was in my opinion something that proved there was passion, a flame. And where there is a flame someone is bound to get burned, right?

I think that time made me realize a lot of things about myself. Not just with how I act, but with what I’m worth. I am worthy of love. I am worthy of affection. Something I think that I had forgotten before. I am worthy of someday being someones first priority.

The feeling I have now though, makes me feel like I’m not. And that I probably never will be. He has so much planned out in front of him. He has such great goals. And he’s not even beginning to fulfill them. He wants to come here. But it’s not for me. Maybe the timing is because of me, but the trip is not. He wants to explore. I get that. That emotion is amazing and something we both share. I just wish that he would want to do it with me. He said ”Two weeks will be good right? Enough time for us to do a lot of things, and for me to do a lot of things”. Clearly there is a separation there. The difference between us is, that if I were to travel to Korea I would’ve also wanted to explore. But I would’ve wanted to do it with him. Together. I wouldn’t want to waste a single hour of that expensive trip on doing anything else than being with him.

That feeling in Korea. That feeling of something true and honest and real. I am living off of that feeling. Like a drug addict after their virgin-shot I’m longing- no, needing to experience it again. I could die to experience it all over again. I could die to have it everyday for the rest of my life. To come home to him after a tough day. To hold him after a rough day at work. To share a good morning kiss and a Sunday breakfast in bed. To one day start a family. With little feet running across the floor in whatever country we’d be in. I imagine a life with him. He doesn't.

With my ex, it was the opposite. I loved him but never ever in this kind of way. I loved him out of obligation. I loved him because I thought I had too. I was jealous out of selfishness, I wanted him all to myself even when I didn’t give him my everything. But he always loved me. Loved me so much through everything. He wanted kids, he wanted marriage, he wanted a future. But then, for me, those words always felt bitter and wrong. Because I wasn’t ready. I already knew long before I was honest with myself, that he wasn’t the one for me. He wasn’t right. Now I feel like I’ve found the one, and so the feelings aren’t shared.

[adeninegoddess]

I was a child.

Saying I had a sad childhood, is an understatement. I would spend copious amounts of my time reading books and floating away to a world of fantasy, and that to me was my escape of the reality that was right in front of me. I was a child. A child should not be left alone all the time, making up imaginary friends, worrying about her loved ones and wishing she’d be by their side instead of resting beside no one, in an empty, cold, queen sized bed.  Well, I still lay in a double sized bed for one, until now. But, I was a CHILD, and I was ALONE. And when the bittersweet time comes, when the sky turns into a black abyss, and most of the people retire to a place they call home, no matter how wrecked, sad and lonely it is. It is then; I will no longer be alone. The strange thing is, I still feel lonely. It feels as if like there is some kind of disease that is slowly digging into my ribs and puncturing my fragile and young heart, almost repeatedly. I remember telling myself all the time, that it’s good that I’m feeling these things right now, so when the future comes I won’t be able to feel it anymore because I’ve suffered long enough and I’ve used all of my ‘sad tickets’ earlier in my life, and in my future life, there’d be only ‘happy tickets’ left for me. Yes, those are a thing to me back then, maybe it was all the books that I’ve devoured and mercilessly drowned myself in. Maybe it’s the made-up world that caused me to emulate these theories in my head. I don’t know. I was a child. I was a child, and people would take advantage of it. They would make use of my weakness, to vent their own frustrations about something else or maybe because they just hate me. They hate the youth that is in me, they hate that my heart is too young to understand and   even feel everything that there is to feel in this mad world, everything real, tangible or intangible. But what they do not know is I that feel every single strand of emptiness and pain that this pessimistic world has to offer. I may have even felt the pain much more than they did, for I felt it for every single one of them — my loved ones, even if they don’t love me, or at least show it at the time. There’s one person that stood out for me in my childhood though, not because he’s my best friend, not because he’s my friend even, but because every time I needed saving, and even if I didn’t, he was there. Not always, but he was there. He was like a shadow, I almost wasn’t sure if he was real, he was so hard to get a hold on to, to grasp what his image was like. One instance, he will be my savior, and then the next time he will just be a superhero in a comic book that I read. I know he is not made up brought of my young and playful mind, though, I am sure and I swear it with my 8-year old pinky finger that he was real. He would fight for me, physically and emotionally, even with persons he shares his DNA with. I never did understand it, and I never still until now, why he would risk his life in a way and willing to cause someone’s life just for the sake of my happiness. Little did he know, it made me cry so much more, not because of the probability that someone will be a sacrificial lamb of joy and happiness for a brief period of my childhood, but because it was the first time that I knew that I was worth fighting for. Also, I still do not know up to this very moment what his purpose of doing so was. What will he gain from it? Will he benefit from it? When his only witness would be a humid afternoon, the sky and the almost retiring sun, and maybe a couple of spectators? I do not know. I was a child. And I still do not know. Maybe I am still a child. And maybe, I still haven’t used up all of my “sad tickets” yet.