Depressing Contemplations

I had to go out with him after one long depressing day…

I sat there and watched him smoking one cigarette after the other as he went on and on about his new found philosophies in life… as expected what a load of crap!

I kept wondering where my eyes were when I saw him as a perfect match, and how his bullshit once made sense to me… was I that naïve, or was I so desperate to get out of there that anything different seemed appealing…

I kept thinking that before him I was as considerate as I am right now, but I was louder when it came to what I wanted, I was even loud with him until he managed to silence me in my relationship with him and in every following one, or even the potentials thereof!

Being able to voice my thoughts became a challenge… the process usually happens too loud in my head, but does not cross the boundaries of my body leaving only room for telepathy or people who are really good with reading my body language and deciding which is because I am uncomfortable and which is because I am naturally fidgety and restless!

It hit me that one of the worst things he’s done to me is that he domesticated me even further! Yes, I was reluctantly domesticated before I knew him, but I was resentful of it and I was waiting for a chance to rebel. He gave me the illusion of that chance, then he slowly, and very nicely took it piece by piece, giving me another illusion of full control, until I regained consciousness by one cruel slap of reality after the other…

My mind hates remembering those memories; so I lock them in the vault and pretend to be over them. I am over the pain of “losing” him simply because I realize the alleged loss is my biggest victory, and that the consequences were a reasonable price to pay for what I have learned, what I keep learning.

But I still get overwhelmed by my silence in certain situations, by how I’d choose to react later than to just show my anger or discontentment the minute I feel it. It’s like every time I feel hurt or angry, I remain silent instead of voicing it… instead of objecting to what caused those feelings, a film of events plays before me blocking all my surroundings. I see all those times my voice was silenced by angry abusive words… and although that film is muted, I still see all those tears that overflew from my eyes bringing only more angry thoughtless words my way, and then causing more tears, leaving me with nothing but silence as a reaction.

It doesn’t stop there. I get over my anger and my hurt on my own, with no one’s help, without channeling it or communicating it. I just become more understanding of the so called reasons behind it and I make up excuses and just move on. I keep burying my anger and my discontentment without even leaving a headstone to mark where they were buried, until there is no place left. Then every time I dig another hole to bury more of them, I find what I had once buried some time ago staring me in the face all rotten and corroded! Somehow my alarm system stopped recognizing all the yellow and orange between the green and red; and I’m afraid it might have even become color blind.

And then the line of thoughts leads to another him, to the him… how I appreciated being read without having to choose the right words; all I had to do was think them, and they’re heard and understood. It is magical how one can tell your mood from a “hi” you write, not even say! And a very fast film plays before me of how it seemed to be so easy, until it became too hard… and I wonder when it became hard, and why… I know the when and the why, I was just too naïve to see it before hand, too wishful to believe it. I guess my mind saw the end before I did, and it became too silent and just gave up.

And now, I see the sad ending. I see myself alone after having lost even the little things with which I was trying to console myself. I realize my alarm system was no longer green, and that I am in too much pain that I could not recognize before because I was in denial that it was even possible. I see the script matching other scripts that left me with the same strife, alone to deal with it all, only this time with the pretense of otherwise.

And I fail to see why I should have more faith, why I should still want to share my pain with people  or seek solace in the comfort they offer when at the end of the day no one wipes my tears but my own hands or my pillow… when I need to learn to stand out for myself because no one would rush to my rescue or my protection…

It’s the cruel plain fact I keep learning and re-learning, and it overwhelms me every single time…

You can go cry on all the shoulders there are, get the assurance that you’re a great person with amazing qualities every day and that what happens to you is unfair or much less than what you deserve… but it does not stop shit from being thrown at you and it does not clean you up… you do it, you have to summon that will power to stand up on your damn jaded feet and decide to wash it all off, knowing that soon enough more shit will be thrown on you and you just have to accept it and perhaps hope that you’d learn to dodge the shit when you see it coming from time to time… however, you’d still know that you’ll still be the target of more shit which you don’t see coming and that you’d have to keep your head together and find solace in little things in life… otherwise, you can only give up on it all and end it!

Sometimes I wish I were suicidal.

~ by insomniac on December 26, 2010.

2 Responses to “Depressing Contemplations”

  1. so2al..the italic paragraph is from an older post..sa7??
    i remember reading it.

    one comment if i may: i don’t think that i should expect or accept that anyone should protect or rescue me.
    People are essential but in another function…for listening to the vents…for being there to keep us company…to share thoughts…to share experiences and education.

    Remember: howl and seek wild women’s company? :)

    YEs…it is the company, warmth, sharing…many other meanings that help make life a lot easier and nicer (simple example: last night :) )

    The rescue and the protection should have a sole source: inner self.

    3arfa eh elmoshkela, we consume so much time and soul energy on expectations, while we can produce multiple energy by relying on our sense and logic…not others.

    New Year Hugs*

    • gawab… the italic paragraph is something i constantly say, either out loud or silently to myself… akeed the thought has been posted quite a few times on my blog bema en it’s where i do my mental vomit :)

      and you always may, eh el rasmeyat de! expecting is not like sometimes needing that feeling or wanting it… i hereby admit, sometimes i need that feeling even when i know how irrational it is…. i am a sucker like that!

      as for the importance of people… de 3ayza a3da beiny w beinek because i have zero tolerance for anyone randomly contributing to this conversation without knowing me or knowing what i am talking about (shitty mood alert :) )

      bas btw, i stopped consuming my energy on expectations, i consume it on HOPE, and i have been sucked dry of it the past few weeks, i don’t have one drop left! mesh 3arfa ashra7, yemken lama ashoofek….

      miss you already!

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