Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Blown to Bits.

I can't call anyone up on this, but I'm sure I once said that I wouldn't give my next relationship 12 months. In the residue of heartbreak and low confidence I said a lot of things. Things I meant and followed up and things I regret and wish I'd held back. At one point, not for very long I was sure I wasn't worth being someone's girlfriend, then I felt the opposite I only deserved the best, then I felt angry at all men and thought I might make someone love me and then trash their heart (this thought lasted but a few minutes, I'm not that sort of person even if I wanted to be), I thought about becoming a slut but my virgin status made this somewhat of a shady area, I thought I might start a relationship with anybody but I'd certainly end it, and end it soon. There was no way I was going to be left crying in the middle of the morning wandering what was wrong with me again, I certainly wasn't going to let anyone get the better of me and I wasn't going to let anyone close enough to see the cracks. I still can't fathom how devastated I was you know. So completely and utterly crushed. And now it's the only comparison I have. I never expected the turn of events that happened. I never expected, nor asked nor wanted to fall in love. This was supposed to be a in and out job, feel flattered, let myself be wooed in an old fashioned courtship, seduced in a fifty shades of grey way, and then I was going to get up, brush myself off of the experience and move on feeling worldly and like a woman ready to face the world. I was such a bloody teenage idiot.

I really thought I could walk away you know, I really felt and intended for the experience to be in my hands, in my control and dance to my tune. Instead the memory of me in some black nightie completely out of my character and falling asleep snuggled and warm in a strange bed in an unfamiliar room with a man's arm around me and me thinking, not saying, I Love You. I remember that feeling like I remember the rushes of adrenaline on the back of dad's motorbike, free falling in my skydive...I remember biting my lip and feeling a fog of unease settle on that warmth, I remember thinking I was crazy, and caught in the moment, but on top of that I felt like it was true with everything inside me.

I have thought, and don't think I haven't, that perhaps I should have stopped it that next morning. I should have gone home and never gone back and then I could have passed it off as a romantic thought in a dreamlike state, I could have saved myself.

I think in a psychological analysis of myself I crave certain things like I'm sure most women do. I crave affection and a feeling of worth in someone's life other than my own, I crave stability, protection, reassurance. Reassurance that I'm ok, that life is ok. Respect, for myself, my things, my nearest and dearest, my dreams and hobbies. I crave a certain leadership and mainly I crave a feeling of being cherished and looked after, I want to feel loved, really loved. When this package of requirements was offered up so effortlessly I must have been a moth to a flame, and that was my downfall. I was caught in a jam jar, an ant to sugar, a bee to honey. Out of my control and nothing dances to my tune, I feel conned, conned into falling in love and into a hopeless state.

12 months I said, it will be 12 months at the end of this one, if it gets past there I'll have lost all confidence in my own promises. I don't know why I'm still waiting for something to go wrong, I guess when you believe you're safe that's when the walls crumble. I don't want this to end, more I just want solid reassurance that it wont, before it goes any further than the limit I gave myself. Once we hit that mark I have no excuse. I'll have lost a bet with myself and will need to accept that this is real, but then I'll be more at risk of serious damage if it does then crash and burn.

Ever feel an unnatural intense force to push someone away just to see how long they will stand strong? How many blows can a solid brick wall take before it crumbles? You push and push daring them to walk away and prove you right, and when they don't it feels worse because if they had you'd say "Ha, see told you! Wasn't I prepared the whole time? and I'm fine for being so ready for it!" instead you sit there contemplating if it does happen if you will actually be prepared, because every time they don't move you step a little closer, and eventually there will be nowhere to run and hide, and a heart will be fully in the line of fire, god help us both if it gets blown to bits.

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