I know

 

 

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Vday

Valentines day 2013. I eat my feelings.

Thinking of love makes me nauseous. Maybe you think it is because I lost my love a few years ago, and maybe so. But it's not the memory of the loss that drops my stomach, it is the emptiness that followed.

In primary school I remember contemplating the future, and whether I would ever be one of those ladies I read about in magazines that couldn't find a boyfriend. I wrote in my diary:

I will never have to worry about that because I always have a crush on someone, I always find someone.

 

I never thought about the reciprocation

It's a sweet, innocent idea of love. I never thought the one I loved would forget to love me back, until he did.

I sit here as a hippocrital woman, arguing against my own mind. Telling myself I can't still be in love. Because that's insane.But occasionally I relent. I cave in to the warm feelings I push beneath my lungs. They are useless, almost disgustingly aged. They have no place here in this time. But I never doubt they are still real.

 

But I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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All Spain- no gain.

Today, sun. Thank god. A bruised ego and deflated heart do nothing but sink in a rainstorm like last night. While caught in the downpour on my way back to my hotel, I tried to believe the drenching was a sort of sympathy show from e universe, but this morning I realise it was merely a hint, a gentle hand to let me know It was time to leave. And I know that is what I have to do. For once I am not fighting, not resisting the direction life is clearly asking me to move in. This is a major change. My default setting used to be anger, I would thrash back against life like everyday was war, but usually the only casualty was me. I'm not sure when it happened, but I have started to cultivate a strong belief in the world taking me on my journey. I still have the strongest belief in my own decisions, but if they take me to a wall, I feel like I can now walk around, rather than banging my head against it hoping for a breakthrough.

And slowly my hurt is healing. Healing like a scar that aches when it rains, but that has stopped splitting open when I fall. It heals with every first breath in each new airport, with every new sight, smell and day. My head is so swollen with surviving every new experience there is just no room for sadness.

I know this doesn't mean I have erased the darkness, but by filling my life with light, I can hopefully outweigh it, letting it shrivel and wither by not feeding it what it wants. I will ride the waves, and keep my eyes open for my island.

The precipice is here, where I sit on a hard, deliberately uncomfortable airport chair. It is now, that I have had years of anticipation sucked away from me. It is a gift, a slate so clean it might be made of glass. My expectations have been shattered so inexplicably hard that the particles are almost invisible, forming a soft cushion that bounced me back up when I thought I would be slumped on the ground. And now, just as I used to be so amazed at the depths my heart could reach when I was at my lowest, I am astounded at the strength I now have to withstand such depths. I now know for myself the ability for the heart to function as a muscle, and to me it seems like the strongest one we own. Because at oe point I would have sworn to you, up and down and around, that my heart was gone. It did not exist and that was fact. But i can feel her, beating softy now, telling me she is almost ready to be taken out again. Or was, until you.

I am confused at the lack of pain I feel. I think I know that all along I had prepared myself for this. Didn't want to see it, but I knew it was there. And it played out, like the worst case scenario. And I was ok. I was ok. I can't stop saying it because I can't really believe it.

I feel kind of elated, like I want to grab the table of business men seated next to me and announce my little victory. ' I got my heart stomped on, and I'm still functioning like a normal human being!' What a bloody miracle. I deserve some sort of award, surely? This might not mean much to some people, but the way I feel about the 'loves' of my life, is nothing short of severe intoxication. I am high on them, I live through them. They raise my diaphragm so I can inhale air. They activate my cerebellum. They are life. So to have my life removed and still be here, freaks me out a little. But apparently I'm ok? The only risk with this, of course, is the slight chance it may be a sort of buffer. I have a small concern i may have had a rush of endorphins, similar to what you get when bungee jumping say. The sort of rush that protects your body from going into shock when you almost die. Am I riding the chemical high, pumped out by my brain to stop me plummeting to the bottom of my world again? And if so, does it really matter if I am? As long as they keep on coming?

 

 

 

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UK OK?

Hi :)

So brief overview without boring you- I'm Jess. 27, single as hell, blonde (for a price), country music/snow/eccentric comedy loving random girl, who apparently decided to leave all my grinds ( typo that is staying- all my friends are now my grinds) and family behind and move to London UK. So that happened. And this evening's post is brought to you by the letters W, T and F, as I have a minor breakdown in my tiny Temporary accommodation bedroom in East London, while job/house/life hunting. I am in that amazingly excruciating precipice of a new life that basically makes you want to live under your doona and watch YouTube copies of Van Wilder....I mean...what....?

I'm sure ill be on top of it tomorrow. Xxxxx

 

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