Void

He says to me "why are you still on your own, when you should be sharing your life with someone ? You need that companionship, from a man."

He made me cry in the middle of a cafe' once again.

Luckily we were tucked away in the poorly lit corner on the cusp of closing time, otherwise people would've started staring at us.

So, I looked out the window and evaded his eye contact, until he realised he'd struck a chord.

I've known C for years, and he knows why I haven't gone down that pathway, and I wish he'd stop pressing me over and over.

Soon, I'll refuse to catch up with him, and tell him nothing of my life.

However, he sees it in the depths of my eyes, and I feel it in the depths of my heart and soul, but I choose to let sleeping dogs lie, and not enter into that dialogue.

It's always the elephant in the room.

He then proceeds to lecture me like I'm some teenager that has never recovered from her first break - up.

Mind you, being married to an abuser for close to a decade and birthing children is not equivalent to puppy love.

Sighs.

I don't think I ever recovered from the obliteration that my heart endured as it was far too great to comprehend, and until I find my medicine in another, it's just the way it is.

I know it. I live it. I breath it. I don't have to waste my time being interrogated over it on a Monday evening.

Yes, it still hurts. Yes, I still cry myself to sleep. Yes, I'm an emotional train wreck but who gives a fuck.

I am who I am without any false requisites.

Healing, takes time after being with someone from such a young age, while enduring disappointment after disappointment.

I've been told that it takes the same amount of time you were with someone, to grieve and heal. It's not the loss of him, it's the disappointment that unfolded year after year, and the repeated shatterings that hope continues to deliver to me, on top of all that.

Upon leaving the cafe' and sharing that dialogue, I realised that I've reconstructed myself in the wrong way, in that all the fragments of my past have been reconfigured in such a way that no one can ever understand my triggers, let alone navigate their way through those things, with me.

It's hard to explain to a man that you're bonding with why you're crying suddenly, over some little thing that he does for you.

It's just too complicated to explain when someone is lying right next to you, and you're still crying, when you should be glowing from their presence in your life.

It's just all too complicated, and I'd rather evade that at this point in time in my life until I find my medicine.

I'm a bundle of thematic immeasurable unknowns, irrespective of whatever I've chosen to nurture in my life as nature has always facilitated that those things flourish, and blossom because my intent was always pure.

And then, someone does or says something to trigger my insecurities, and I'm a goner that falls to pieces all over again.

It's just another disappointment in life to sail through, without the luxury of pain relief.

Evidently, the past is a dirty cancerous whore that just keeps fucking me right into an oblivion, on somedays.