Love, Maybe - 3. Recovery

It’s the 21st of January 2010. 

This might not mean a thing to you but it represents a great deal to me, the first month of the year is almost over, the year that just started.

As more and more occupies my timeline I feel as though my days are slipping away, but in stealth mode.

And I’m single again, as it should have always been, I am hoping he is not under the impression that we are still together, to be honest, I might not have been totally clear, he touched on meeting my mother yesterday and I promptly shot that plane right down, it’s bad enough I introduced you to my grandparents, you want my mother as well?

I bloody well think not.

There are still emotional ties, but to some degree I’ve switched off and it will take time and a lot of work on his part for me to feel that way ever again. In fact I know I won’t ever go back to those blind in love days, if I really was in love in the first place.

I mean I’m 19 after all.

I never forget that.

When I get older I have no idea what I’m going to use as an escape route, we’ll have to find another plausible reason to protect myself from long term commitment.

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A Few Days Later .... 

So as suspected we have reached the pinnacle of our debauchery and our moral compass has become completely askew…it is the intentions of our heart that matter the most correct? It is not in my heart to hurt him but I must to keep myself happy, I do not set out to cause him pain, I simply do not have the courage to break free and so I have deviated and like so many of the others before my feelings for this man have been completely eradicated in a matter of a few simple and blissful minutes.

It was some bomb ass sex, that going all the way in to the core of my stomach while hitting my g spot and smacking my ass fucking sex. He’s really…cool…and it’s the perfect sort of relationship for me, low maintenance, little to absolutely no expectations, no planned ‘future’ ahead, just simple sex and brilliant conversation.

If only the whole world worked as such. I really like creatives and I think it’s the knowledge that this is not my first neither will it be my last really cool big dicked creative that keeps me floating so high above the tethers of emotional attachment.

Besides, I enjoy the single life immensely, I know it’s perhaps my age that instills such a need for emotional freedom inside of me, but I have to admit I like the effect I have on the opposite sex, I love the way he /looked at my ass when I was dancing, the way he watches me when I move or the way their hands go up and down my curves, it feeds my ego, makes me feel treasured and creates the best energy for me to carry on into my daily life. All the while maintaining my need for independence and solitude.

Therefore…I will always be single…even when I’m not.

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A Few Weeks After That .... 

I have started working out, not the run for 3 days and do yoga once and forget about it working out, like an actual gym membership, 20 minute cardio 20 minute strength training working out. And I feel so bloody strange. My body feels heavy, I’ve been told I might need to detox from the marijuana but I do not see the point., okay not really along the lines of ‘do not see the point’ more of ‘tried to make me go to rehab and I said fuck no no no’ smell me? But I do actually feel the toxins, continued consumption of water, continued burning of fat and my system will be cleansed, it’ll just be me, my blood cells and my THC. I wonder where the THC will attempt to store in my body after all the fat is burnt off.

Haven't spoken to the previous love of my life since Valentines, I hope he thinks I cheated, I hope he knows, it’ll make my life a great deal easier.

It’s not that I dislike him, it's just that I don’t love him anymore, and since we weren’t friends before anything romantic was introduced into the relationship his absence in my life makes no plausible difference.

Quite sad actually. I went along with it, played the duet brilliantly, then smashed the entire fucking piano.

I fucked someone else. Fucked the living shit outta his ass. And would again, and again and again, I really do like him though. But it’s a strange sort of affection, it’s the sort that doesn’t really ask for much, the sort that is just content in existing, never pushes you to go out of your comfort zone, never rocks the boat, in fact encourages your need for independence but drives the need for good ass sex from someone of like mind.

That was a problem with my ex, can I say ex now?

We weren’t really of like mind.

He was not and never will be my 'Eternal'.

My eternal rides the waves of spiritual unity, my eternal is equipped with thousands of lessons, he is neither conceited nor weak, but instead humble in his knowledge of his power, of his direct lineage to the Gods of the Universe. My eternal is a fucking pothead, who probably grows eight different strands in his house in Amsterdam. My eternal is filled with the courage to climb a thousand volcanoes. My eternal is not illogical in his emotions, does not profess to know all there is to know about this conundrum of a planet, he instead cradles his steady belief with the knowledge that it may only be an option not absolute truth but believes it still. My eternal hates no man, and only pity’s the ignorant. He is strong.

And he is not Catholic.

Amen.

Love, Maybe - 2. Struggle.

January 13th 2010

Sitting outside of Rhapsody's enjoying the stillness for a moment. This whole 'in love' thing has me going a little mad..ordered a cosmopolitan & feel very chic right now ..... I'm so out of my element & I don't know what to do to regain equilibrium, my first instinct is to run but everyone is telling me not to, that he's perfect for me, so on & so forth but I just feel so strange.

My emotions are all jumbled especially after what happened this Christmas, especially after the side of him I had never seen before. That was a side I cannot say I loved very much.

He came to Rhapsody's.
He saw me, at the time trying to will away an unwanted suitor disturbing my peace. 
& walked by.
When I called him he cut my call.

So I quite promptly went to his place retrieved all my left overs & left all in the span of 7 minutes. He was home of course, but on the other side of the compound. I entered without his noticing. I broke up with him.

Via text as seems customary now.

I don't know what he's feeling, nor do I care. If I have to work to get you to express yourself then there's no point. That is such a bitch move you know? Such a pussy ass thing to do. He weakly tried to justify his behaviour saying that he didn't want to disturb my conversation with the stranger I very clearly wanted nothing to do with.

He's a fool.

I would never have just walked by him like that. I'm done anyway. No long ting man. He's gorgeous & all but I'm very young. Too young for something that serious.

Hiding behind my age numbs the pain for now a great deal.

I thank God for my youth & my opportunities. I thank God that I will survive. Next time I will fight every step of the way. Every kiss, every touch, any emotion will have to be earned.

I dated. I tried. Now I'm done.

I need to get away from this bloody city to clear my head & get him completely out of my system. I need sex .... actually .... I'm good on that one ... I just need to get the hell away from all this nonsense.

Lord give me the strength & set my mind at ease, none of us k ow what tomorrow might bring, only you...I accept whatever you have in store despite the drama that took place. Take my heart & heal me of all disease, both spiritual & mental. I pray for patience & I pray for serenity

My time will come.
This is not over.

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18th January 2010 

 In the silence of my day I miss you the most.

Your silly little smile as you lay your head next to mine & your whispers of love against my skin sinks beneath my pores & distracts when silence falls around me.

I miss you.

In those little ways, but my fear overshadows it all. My fear of the power you have over me. My fear of the misery you could cause. I don't trust you not to hurt me with some flippant remark or a sentence of dismissal. I am completely out of my element with you.

Too fragile. Too soft. Too loving. Too kind. Too willing. Too blind.

The words you say can make my heart soar for days but when action comes you're nowhere to be found, the image is shattered & I'm left with the silence & the fear that everything I felt?

Everything you said?

May not have been real.

& in the silence of my day I decide that I never want to feel this way again.

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I want someone to love me, to truely make a difference in my life, the first time I thought about leaving him I realised that I would do everything in my power to make myself want to stay.

I decided that I would try.
At all costs.

My pride took second row & he took first. Because I adored him & for a relationship to maintain a sense of equality the favour has to be returned. So why do I end up feeling so disposable? Why does it seem like I haven't made a single difference? It's like someone threw cold water on me & simply said;

"You were right"

It sucks being right, right now, it sucks so much.

I'm not hurt. There are no tears, I'm just ... surprised & incredibly sad. I loved him. Or atleast I think I did & even my youthful ignorant idea of love would go through almost anything for him ....

Why hasn't his done the same?

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19th January 2010

I'm disgusted with myself for harbouring so much negative energy these past two days. How can I expect things to get better when my heart is so heavy?

I thank the Lord for the lesson that was this relationship, the first lesson of many concerning this field of study I expect. Of course the obvious measures must be taken to ensure that we get over the whole idea vey quickly & in the most profitable way possible.

So I've had my 'in love' sex, it was awesome.

Thank you Lord, I may not understand what happens around me but I know you have my best interest at heart. I will learn from all of this & grow even more with your guidance.

Bless my mouth, eyes & ears so that thy may see through the smoke of the wicked & light up all that surrounds me.

You are my fortress.
My God in whom I trust.
Thank you.

Love, Maybe - 1. Complications

Tonight on Twitter some hilarious men were going through their past heartbreaks, how they reacted, how it felt & as previously stated, it was fucking ridiculously funny, but all true & what I found beautiful about the open discussion was the willingness to be as honest as possible, a sentiment that only reflects growth of the best kind.

So I thought of my own previous pain & suddenly recalled just how much I had written during those volatile times & discovered a slew of brilliant phrased dissertations on the situation in question that I now deem fit enough to present on this platform as a series.

I wrote everyday, as I usually do when utterly emotional & I am thankful for this habit, it again enlightens me, it reflect how far I have come emotionally & how brilliant this balance feels in comparison to that struggling darkness.

I am a very interesting character to say the least.

The series is tentatively entitled 'Love, Maybe'.

I'll be switching from third person to first person at will, so keep that in mind as well.

 Feel free to share your thoughts.

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December 2010 

He was having a party.
He was honestly.
Having a party.

She walks up to the house, shades on despite the darkness around, already prepared to lie about whatever emotion this turn of events incited, completely ready to fake a smile even though she was incredibly unhappy and instead marvel at all the cars parked in his driveway.

Her resolve strengthened as she got closer to the noise and since her sunglasses were so dark she could barely tell which of the great tall masses belonged to her. But she did see O…but more importantly O’s weed .

As she placed one foot in front of another she realized that she had no idea what to say to him. She wasn’t sure which route she should take, left or right? Sad or angry? Happy even? Apologetic? Stubborn? Apathetic?

Which of the roads would lead her in the right direction? But as she took a step forward, inhaled the marijuana and took a good look at the ‘love of her life’ a kind of placid amusement engulfed her.

He was pressing some buttons on his phone instead of looking at her, the same phone she had been calling no less than an hour before.

The same call he had ignored.

Placid amusement was the perfect way to describe it. She took another puff and handed the spliff back to it’s owner, turned to walk away when he called to her. Fighting the urge to burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation she had placed herself in, she placated his request and moved closer to him.

Looking up at her with those contact lenses she now absolutely detested, he whispered.

“Are you alright?”

She smiled in return and said;

“I’m cool”

He was lucky there was weed. Very, very lucky.

She turned around and went inside the house to put her bags down, placing her heavy luggage on a chair in the living room, she stopped moving for a moment then picked up her laptop, unsure of what to do, what if she went into the room and all her shoes had been packed? What if he didn’t want here there anymore? What would she do to hurt him? What could she do?

Her phone rang, ‘Shake Zulu’ it read.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, you cool? You home?”

It was her boss, her mentor, her father calling to check on his money maker. She had just come from the office, and had spent most of the time during her fitting for the next days photo shoot pleading him for advice on what to do in her love life. She laughed a little and replied.

“Yeah, I’m cool, but get this. I pull up to the house, and he’s having a party”

There was silence for a spilt second.

“He’s a fucking tosser, he’s playing games man! Lose that! You know what? Enjoy that party yeah, eat as much as you can, drink as much as you can just have fun yeah? Let him think it’s all cool, then fucking leave…”

She laughed loudly at this rant, picked up her bag and transported it to his bedroom. Opening the door she fought back the laughter that threatened to come out at all the clothes that were neither hers or his, strewn across his bed.

He continued on, when she had cried on his shoulder he had been quite plain in saying that she was basically focusing her attention on things that didn’t really matter, her mind should be on work, on her art, on her talent as both a writer and a model, on things that would never make her feel this way.

He told her that she had to protect herself better than she was doing at the moment, told her that she was too valuable for this. She was an artist, he said, and she was wasting her time and attention on something that was making her unhappy and in turn destroying her art.

She had agreed of course, and she knew deep down that was where the fault lay, she hadn’t been able to write, she hadn’t been able to work, too much free time on her hands and nothing productive had come of it.. And that was how she managed to convince him to give her one of the companies Mac keyboards she was so deftly using at this present moment in time.

“So don’t feel bad yeah?”

He continued.

“He’s a European bloody tosser and you’re a goddess, bare mans will be coming after you soon you know? Everything happens for a reason alright? You know I got mad love for you sweetie, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

She nodded and whispered back.

“Bye Daddy”

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He had left, they’d had a conversation where he had played the wounded spoilt prince quite brilliantly, acting all injured and hurt as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. He had still left. Gone with his friends, even though they did need to speak, even though there was currently a huge gaping hole in their young relationship, he had still gone, because she would be there when he got back right?

That might’ve been the real reason she had left in the first place, to create some sort of urgency within him, some sort of need for her within him that she didn’t see anymore, he had become used to her, so he could leave and come back without a thought to where she would be. She’d become a tad too predictable.

After all she had taken time off, regardless of it being holidays at the office, she was still a model and could be busy every day of the week if she chose too, but she hadn’t chosen to she had chosen to spend it with him, to learn more about him, to love more about him but he hadn’t given her that time.

“He’s a fucking tosser”

As soon as the words had come out of her mouth the slow realization of how fruitless they were came upon her. If he was such a complete tosser, why was she still there? Was it premature to just say “Fuck it” and move on? But wasn’t she in love with him? Or in love with whoever he really was, this party him, this ‘we need to talk’ but still leaves for Twist him, wasn’t at all attractive, was there hope still? Or should she just leave?

She never liked hassle. She never liked trouble, and he was stressing her out. Whoever this nigga was, was stressing her out, and she didn’t like stress. And aside from the huge zit this had gotten her she didn’t see any plus signs or bonuses.

He had ignored her calls, cause he was having a party. A fucking party! It was always about his friends, some party, some venue, he hadn’t made the same sacrifice she had. And so when she told him she had to work the next day, the look of displeasure on his face felt very satisfactory.

And she wouldn’t share her art with him, right now she couldn’t, she didn’t trust him to betray her for one of his 19038940854936789526758965069854389475489 “close” friends.

It felt like she wasn’t dating just him anymore, it felt like she was dating the whole city of Accra. She never told people what she was doing or where she was going, or who she was with, but it seemed as though he was always answering the question.

She hoped to be the most important.

But she wasn’t.

At least that’s what it felt like. 

So she would take her time back, and fall back in love with her work. She adored him, she worshipped him, but her art never hurt her, or replaced her with another, and her art didn’t ignore her phone calls and throw fucking pool party’s instead.

Her art was eternal.