First and Last

 I can't forget you saying "it's never off the table for us", but while you meant it for sex, it was originally meant for love, but now, the time for that is up.

I'll be the one that got away.

I'll kiss you back with my eyes and nothing more.

I'll let you touch me, and I'll touch you back, never your mountains and never your caves, but you'll have my hands anywhere else. 

I'll love you and never tell you again. 

I'll love you for who you are and let go of what we could be. 

We both deserve more. A better fit. A TaylorMade match. But it was good while it lasted. 

I love that you still love me. And I love how much I love you. But that'll be all. 

I'm not ready for you to love another, but I am ready to start putting you back on the shelf I took you down from. 

Till death do us part:

I'll forever be your first;

And

You'll forever be my last. 

May God bless your journey and find you someone good. And may He teach us to be friends again, not negating what we lived together but strengthening the bond of friendship. 

1, 2, 3

 One

Two

Three 

Just like that

On the archived section

Of my WhatsApp chats

The one I want the most

Read and unreplied 

The one I want the least

Replied a few hours later

And the one that I let go

Replied and worried I'm not okay

Checking up on my well being.  

I hate that the one I want most doesn't miss me enough to find a way to reach out, in comparison with the ones I don't want anywhere near me. 

Almost seems like I want those I can't have

And have those I don't want. 

How twisted am I?

How unworthy? 

Linguistic dance

 - Do you speak English? 

- I do! 

- Let's go! 

Do they really though?

I'm not sure it's the language I know. 

When they choose it, it's a bold act. A step into something new, masterful, beautiful feathers on a bird who's beginning his courting dance. It's an act to attract. And I fall for it every time.

It's my mother tongue, though. 

When I chose it, it's a vulnerable act. It's honest, and deep, my soul exposed, heart laid out on my sleeve or the tip of my tongue. I feel seen in a way no one sees me. And I'm ensnared again. 

If they come in for the show and I come heart exposed, could there ever be a happy, safe outcome? Will they let go of the language when the chase is over, leaving me empty and alone in my vulnerability?

Kiss me

 "Kiss me" she whispers as we’re sitting in the dark.

She asks or commands, in some ways, she prays.

The moment is eternal and fleeting all at once. Immortal, forever etched into my memory and history, and passing for as soon as my lips reach yours, the request fulfilled, it will have passed, be finished. 

Here all your colors are dimmed, but you still shine bright in my eyes, fervent under my fingertips, aching for a stronger touch, a closer one, all of our body part pairs connecting, entangling, pushing, pressing or pulsing like the rhythm of good music.

Those words echoing in my ears, even the movement your tongue makes as those vowels are pronounced alludes to the pull our bodies are yearning for, as these forever-seconds progress.

Oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine were already flooding my brain just by being this close to you, but hearing those words right after you brushed your hair off one side of your neck and land it all on the other, your chest suddenly rising and falling fast and your skin so very close to mine, now my need for air and fast has doubled, I can almost feel the blood rushing through my veins, my face hot and hands cold, and all I see is the one spot of color in this dark room, your very biteable, incredibly juicy red lips.

You call me saying "baby?", but don’t really need to. My lips are already making their way to you.

Quos Amor Verus Tenuit, Tenebit.

Then,

Not so suddenly, but not expected

A couple months later, while recovering from the wounds of throwing yourself out of a moving car and into a highway, you see someone riding a bike. And you realize you have a bike.


You've had a bike for a while now.


They call out your name, invite you to ride alongside them and you go. Then you realize your life is moving. You can still speed on a bike and you can stop to enjoy nature on a bike. You know that this bike is never going to become a car, bounding you eternal to this person or this ride, but these two people are always going to be very good bike mates. And though you long for a car someday, when you can trust being in a car again, for now you're happy riding your bike.

She speeds when you speed. She slows down when you slow down. She warns you that there's a car coming and listens when you warm her. She turns when you want to turn so you trust to turn when she turns too.

She enjoys the ride with you. She doesn't criticize the other passengers nor the other drivers. She knows everybody is fighting a battle she will never know about and she respects that. God, if feels so good to be respected.

She's just enjoying her bike ride. Suddenly, as you watch her turn, slow down and speed up, admire nature with you and be just as free as are, you realize you feel safe again. I'm glad to have you as company, she says with words and without. She is genuinely sweet, no weight behind that word. You can tell her that you need her and she knows what you mean. You can tell her that she's yours for the time being and she'll take it, no backlash, no wise retort to teach you about the world and its dangers. Just enjoyment, appreciation for your experience, your life, your words. She tells you she's enjoying this ride with you every chance she gets, to the point where, because you're not used to it, you find it suspicious. Then you remember who she is and realize she just really enjoys your company. Always has and always will.


She has forgiven you for abandoning her at a stop without ever saying goodbye. She understands the choices you made and doesn't blame you for them, even before you've been able to do the same for yourself. You can trust this one. Your heart will not skip a beat for her, but you can trust to ride alongside her and you can love her completely, for the time being.



Quos Amor Verus Tenuit, Tenebit. - True Love Will Hold On to Those Whom It Has Held.

Post Mortem

 When you first meet, she's like a fast, speeding car. She invites you to hop in and the desire for adventure takes over, so you do, risk and all. At first, you feel like your life is finally going somewhere fast! It's a little scary, but wonderful. She's turning left and right and you can almost feel the speed on your skin. It's inebriating. Nothing wrong with that, right?...

When you first hop in the car it doesn't seem to be any problem, in fact, it smells nice, it looks good, everything is a novelty and you trust it, you make like that commercial and just do it.

Then you start noticing these little things… Whenever there's a speed bump she just goes over it without ever slowing down and you always hit your head on the roof.  She doesn't apologize for it either, after all, if you agreed to get in a fast car then you were bound to bump your head a few times, it's just natural, that's just what happens. That is how her mind works. And you have no right to question it. Or maybe you do. She does take pride in being "open to feedback", but you are praised for agreeing with her and berated for disagreeing. At some point you learn your heart gets broken less often if you just agree non-stop.

Next, you notice how little space there actually was in the car in the first place. Your seat was free, but there's no room for your things, your life, your taste and style. There never was, but if you wanted this ride you needed to jump in the car - no time to take a look around and realize this seat required an empty person, not a real one.

You suggest a stop so you can breathe, maybe declutter the car a little, but no. There's no stopping, absolutely, we cannot stop! is their reaction. This is when you start to get scared. You suggest stopping to look at nature instead, or slow down to enjoy the view and are equally scolded, told your life wasn't moving before because you kept wanting to slow down. She uses your own pain against you, making you feel guilty for your own vulnerability. Who wouldn't shut down when faced with that? A fighter? A screamer? You can't become who you're not for the sake of survival. You will do what you can to survive. In this case, you understand it's adapt or get out. There's no fixing this.

She is so focused on driving fast, needs so much to keep moving she forgets to acknowledge that the passenger's needs are just as important as their own, and that their need for speed should not and does not rule out the passengers need for safety, comfort and good company.

People start cutting her off and pretty soon she starts honking, screaming, cursing loudly and being very very rude to whoever crosses her. Don't you dare disagree even if you know she was driving over the speed limit in that particular lane. Don't you dare or she might kick you out of the car, but this is a Highway. What are you going to do? My God, what are you going to do? This is a Highway, if she kicks you out of the car you're done for. How are you going to get back home? It's way too late now so either you shut up or you try to agree as best you can 'cause you don't have a car and it eats you up and right then your fear and your silence start to be criticized as a lack of loyalty or to attest that you are the one being a bad passenger, my God, you get to a point where you're terrified to breathe, you're terrified to move, you don't know how to be a good passenger and you desperately don't want to be in this car anymore, but you do want your life to keep moving and you don't have a car and you're on a fucking highway...

A panic attack

Is still the least of your problems.

In quiet of the eye of the storm, you finally see that car wasn't built for two. The driver never cared to tell you, maybe, because they never even realized it themselves. It looks like it was meant for two, but the back seats are full of junk, trash or luggage and those take up all the space that was supposed to be meant for you.

As the car continues to speed,

she continues to torment you,

and you finally understand that there was never room for you in this car in the first place,

and she's never going to slow down

you jump.

Avoidand attachment style - with God

 My idea of love is very twisted because of how I was brought up. For example, being beat up verbally in hours of a fight because someone wants the best for me makes me feel loved (as well as hurt, disrespected and ).

Therefore

When I don’t feel loved by God, it’s not because He’s not actually loving me - it’s because I CAN'T SEE his love. The love I EXPECT to receive is not healthy, true, good, genuine love. The love He gives IS.


God does not love me unhealthily. It’s not in his nature to be bad, or to love poorly. He gave his only son out of love for me. He loves me completely, intensely.


In other words, when I'm not feeling loved by God or my brothers in Christ (both blood related and other), it's not because I'm not being loved, it's because I'm not seeing how loved I am. Just because I can't see it in the moment, doesn't mean that it's not there. Same as sun is still in the sky during the night and continues to provide it's warmth, gravitational pull and light through the moon.

Step 4: Remember so you don't let it happen again

 A new group chat is made, with people I haven't seen in a long time, people that bring back a sense of excitement and adventure... a minute later my mind goes back to you.

A family gathering is about to take place. After so long, I have a say and a place where I belong, an assembly that loves me and wants me around, even needs me... a minute later my mind goes back to you.

An early morning of planning and rearranging all the furniture in the house, encompassed by the adrenaline of the movement and the satisfaction of the decluttering of my life... and all the while, though I try to focus it as much as I can, for some reason my mind goes back to you.

A tiny piece of me dies every time my mind goes back to you. Another little piece of me I had lost a while ago gets found, dusted off and glued back together. Not always. Not amazing, sad or happy every time. But not numb either. Not hopeless about being free, understood, loved and respected anymore. 

Maybe I'll end up alone and maybe I'll like it. God, no. If that happens, I definitely won't like it.

What is the purpose of this? Right now, I have no idea. And yes, I couldn't care less for how that was phrased. If you are determined to take offense at the things I do and say, disregarding WHO I AM, that is your prerogative. As much as I hate it, it doesn't concern me anymore and I am determined to force myself to forget. But, like you wrote once, and I kept so I wouldn't forget just how terribly I felt during that time, wouldn't forget how utterly wrong we were for each other "Se eu não escrever eu vou surtar".

I'm not even sure this will ever be posted, because I don't think you deserve to read what I have to say, after deciding - during our relationship - that we were unfit and my needs unreasonable. You were so concerned with being fair in your words you forgot to live them. You asked me to be coherent, consistent with my decision, so I will. I will not even interact with those who say they wish me well, then knife my heart in my most vulnerable moments.

I don't want to love you anymore.

Written before the giving of '2nd change' to the relationship, on the 20th of February.
Today, the day before I say goodbye to the dog that stayed here for exactly 75 days, I mean it just the same, on the 16th of May.

The bright, white moon is still not completely full.

"Tomorrow will be a perfect day to go finishing". Your words have become mine. 

So much of you has become a part of me. I am thinking of ways to talk to you again. Hopefully, I'll manage to some time soon. Hopefully, I'll learn to forgive you completely.

February, 2024.

- get up

- teach

- eat

- sleep

repeat

Can't go out, don't have money for that. Will I have money to pay the bills next month? Do the math. I don't want to do the math, cause if I find out that I won't what I am going to do?! What can I do?! 

Send out cvs - I've been doing that but I haven't gotten any responses and I don't know if I want a formal job anymore anyway. I want stability. Yeah, but with no freedom? No. I could make more money working for myself doing something I love and believe in from the comfort of my own home then with any other slaving job out there. But in the meantime, I can't go out. Can't afford it.

Stay at home. Damn it, man, not again. 

THEN FUCKING DO SOMETHING! LIKE FUCKING WHAT, JOY?! YOU CAN'T AFFORD ANYTHING RIGHT NOW. YOU CAN'T. 

Work on the house. It needs your attention and you thrive by improving it. True, what's the point of doing that anymore. I care about it, but I feel so useless, like I deserve to live in this perfect fit of a house that maybe is also slowly crumbling under my feet due to lack of proper attention. I don't deserve to thrive. You need to live well if you want anybody to be interested in you. That's when life finally makes sense to you, isn't it? When it's shared? Yep. That's the problem. I desperately want to love and be loved, start a matrimony, start a life, start. But if that is the only moment I feel like my life is worth living then I'm already codependent even before the next relationship starts. I'm setting myself out to fail no matter what I do.

What's the point to being alive if all I do and can do is 

eat, teach, sleep, repeat

eat, teach, sleep, repeat

eat, teach, sleep, repeat

eat, teach, sleep, repeat

eat, teach, sleep, repeat

eat, teach, sleep, repeat

eat, teach, sleep, repeat?

 

I used to believe I was meant for so much more than this.

Now, I'm a dead man walking.

 

They cut a tree that was right in front of my apartment today, though. That was cool to watch and I got some new pieces of wood to turn into a nightstand and a stool.