heavenly-sadness

[heavenly-sadness]

[heavenly-sadness]

Letting go hurts. Admitting defeat hurts. Forcing yourself to realize truths you don’t want to hear hurts. Being the one more invested, in love, committed, that hurts. But realizing it, that is what hurts the most.

I feel like emotionally I’ve set up some kind of boundary. I really wanted to have him to kind of lean on. For him to have the quest to give me the attention and love that I couldn’t give myself. I wanted him to be the one telling me that I was worth something, that someone I loved valued me - because if that person did, then maybe so could I? I think the feelings of sorrow and loneliness was actually me realizing that it just wasn’t enough. Him, on the other side of the planet, wasn’t enough for me to fall in love with myself. I have been so sad and I have shed so many, many tears. I have had my stomach aching first thing in the morning. I have had my mind racing - seeing the world crash before me were he to one day decide he no longer would want me. I think all of that sadness kind of did something to me. I feel like I suddenly realized things I tried to tell myself before. All the amazing feelings, memories and experiences with this person - was with one person on the planet. Imagine all the other amazing feelings and experiences waiting in that endless sea of other beautiful people. No matter how hard I’ve tried to tell myself that before I just haven’t been susceptible to it. The heartbreak of losing the person I felt I had was too great to even consider what was still left to experience. The world is huge and can offer so much. I found him, right? I thought I'd never fall in love again, or to have the honor of someone loving me. But I did, and he did too. He is just one person, out of plenty more. We’ve experienced such crazy and amazing things. I wrote him a letter with the words ”you gave me the love story I have read about in romance novels” once. To this day I really have to stand by those words. He really did. He gave me a love story more fiery and passionate than I thought could be found in the real world.

He held my hand every second he could. No matter if it was sweaty. He protected me in the subway, holding his arms around me were someone to knock into me. He told me I was beautiful, every single time we met. He carried my bag, even when I used to slap his arm and tell him he was dorky for doing it. He took me any place I wanted to go. One week into knowing me he surprised me with my two favorite dishes and a cake to celebrate my birthday since he couldn’t be with me on the day itself. He gave me late night deep talks in cozy bars. He gave me steamy cab-rides home. He took a detour half way across town to be able to see me for 15 minutes before he had to take the last train. He bought me food, even when I asked him not to, because he wanted to. He introduced me to his neighbors, to the man owning his favorite restaurant, to his friends. He always asked me how I had slept the night before. He used to send me texts to check up on me during the day. He gave me my dream trip to the most beautiful city by the sea. He gave me the sunday morning slowly waking up for hours with the sun slowly creeping in through the curtains of the room on the 70th floor of the hotel. He gave me soft kisses on my nose when I was lying on his chest while he was working. He stroked my leg even when he didn’t think about it. He made me laugh until I couldn’t breathe. He would laugh at me, that kind of laugh you can’t control, making me feel like I was funny. He sometimes looked at me in that special way after a deep conversation, to finally say ”you impress me every day”. One time we had gone a week without seeing each other and we were lying in his bed, we both started laughing at something to the point of it being hard to talk until we both finally took a deep breath and in that same breath we both said ”I have really missed you”. That was, and still is, so special to me. He did all the things I would cringe at others doing. He took my straw out of the paper and put it in my soda and even folded it so I could drink it easier. He sung me serenades. He did such dorky, cringe-worthy, lovey-dovey things. He followed me to the airport. He was by my side until a gate separated us. He held my eyes until our gazes didn’t meet anymore. And all of this, was without asking him to be that way. All of this being things I have wanted since I first read of love. All of this being things I thought only happened in movies. He gave me the validation that a love like that exists. He gave me so many happy memories.

We had so many sides that were like made for each other, that were so good. We shared most of the same humor. We both impressed each other. We both loved food and sex. We both loved singing. We both loved adventure. We both loved life.

That being said, we had equally as many sides that just crashed completely. Some of them being the same toxic traits we shared. We were both so incredibly stubborn. So incredibly proud. Neither one of us wanted to be the first one to apologize. And when two people go around both thinking they deserve an apology it get’s pretty difficult to solve almost anything.

He was immature. He could almost never argue in a ”sensible” way and he hated when he thought I was being ”smart” or ”logical” during an argument. To be honest I never knew what he meant. How else would you solve a conflict? He would sometime answer my text messages with ”ok” just to piss me off. And he would succeed every time. He liked playing these power games, where he would just take away a bit of his love if he was mad. He would get pretty mean and tell me hurtful things when he was mad at me. He graded his love for me and more than once he would imply that I loved him more than he loved me. I think I was too stuck in the good fairy-tale memories to be able to see the toxicity for what it was rather than become a needy heroin-addict craving more shots, which is what I became. For some reason I fully believed that my world as I knew it would come crashing down if he were to decide to take away this precious love he gave me. But how precious was it? He got mad at me a lot. He got jealous, even though he still kept a girl he used to sleep with as one of his best friends. He never wanted to listen to me explain misunderstandings. It was almost like he didn’t want to solve fights. He would get annoyed when we didn’t share the same opinion instead of trying to see my side of the story. He would criticize what I posted on my social media leaving messages like ”geez, someone needs fucking attention”. I posted my belly while tanning and he said he didn’t know me anymore. He actually even said he wanted to break up with me because of it. He ripped my selfconfidence apart to the point not even tears wanted my company. Turns out that it’s much harder to cry without tears than with them. He slowly became darker. Like a darkness from within spreading inside him, a little more noticeable each fight. That time, with the picture, it became more visible than before. I could almost see the dark thing behind him, now fully present, whisper things in his ear. He became emotionabusive. Had he been next to me, and not on the other side of the earth, I am pretty sure that he would’ve hit me. The tone became threatening, saying he should let me go because I apparently was so much of an attention whore that he couldn’t give me what I wanted. No matter how I tried to explain that it was all a mistake and that I wasn’t seeking anyone else’s attention but his, he was stuck in his threat of ”letting me go”. I almost wanted him to. Because at that time, even in the moment, I felt that it was incredibly unhealthy. I asked him what he wanted me to do - and to not post anything on social media was the response. I told him I was sorry and that I loved him and his reply was ”I don’t care if you love me less as long as you learn to fucking listen to what I am telling you”. Controlling, jealous and demanding. The traits that didn’t fit into my little fairytale.

That night I realized I felt happier on the days when we didn’t speak. I realized my confidence was higher the days we didn’t speak. I realized he was in fact not adding to my self worth at all, he was stripping me of what little worth I thought I had. Again, he was using my pure heart against me. He used my love, and his lack of it, meticulously. Like a hockey team during power play. Holding me over the fire until I squirmed the way he wanted me to, then he would retract me from it just to later put me back over again. Saying ”I want to let you go” having me answer with ”I don’t want this. I love you. But if this is truly what you want, that would break my heart, but then that’s it.” to just reply with ”Oh, so you are not even gonna fight for it. Fine then that’s it”. He was playing rat and mouse. Breaking me down til I was mentally, emotionally and physically on my knees just begging him to not stop talking to me. Even then he had to add ”I wish I could tell you that I love you right now”. But noticing I was so broken, to mend the bruises he added ”I will love you”, to somehow give me hope I guess. As if love was an on/off switch.

I have never before in my life found myself in an abusive relationship. He had showed me tendencies during the fairytale-play but never to this extent. I guess this is how it works for everyone. They wait until you are so emotionally hooked that you would stay through whatever. And I did.

[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.

[heavenly-sadness]

[heavenly-sadness]

“I’m not over him.”

[heavenly-sadness]

[heavenly-sadness]

[heavenly-sadness]

Don’t accept crumbs when you can have the whole cake

I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to build myself up from a low I wasn’t expecting. It’s very easy to hear that you deserve better, that there’s more than what you are being given but making it happen and processing what comes after is a battle. It’s the fact that you’ve spent so long in a rose tinted glare of something you thought was love. Something where you thought that just because the things they said hurt you, they were only for your own good because they love you. You spent months focused on the person, trying to make yourself right for them, trying to make them want you. But the truth is, that wasn’t love. It was tears and it was pain. It was a battle that could never be won. It wasn’t love. It was some kind of emotion that can never be changed, it will stay with you forever. But you have to learn how to move on. How to be you again. How to love yourself the way you did before. Because you do deserve more. You deserve the whole damn cake, so grab and fork and bloody realise it. I will. I’m trying at the very least. It’s just all more than I was ready for, so we take it one toe at a time.

[heavenly-sadness]

- out of my notebook

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queen b

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