Tag Archives: ex

57. somewhere in between the truth and dare and spin the bottle

what made me think it was a good idea? 
i think i must chase pain for its little thrills. there’s just no other explanation.

you’re not as fussed, though i’m not sure you know how much i love you. the problem’s me. again. and i can’t stop my churning gut from heaving.
fear is not a strong enough word to describe this violent smashing of glass inside.
i’m in a daze, a momentary lapse where all thought is illusion.

i pounded the streets by myself this morning. thank god for all his little offerings. i feel lighter now, somehow.
and i saw the sunrise today, but looking at the oranges and pinks merge, i felt sick. i barely slept: five hours of restless turning, waking and then falling into a half-conscious state, where dreams merge with reality.

and all because we went to your friends little gathering yesterday.
your ex was there.
it was all so last minute, i’m sure it was her that convinced him to invite us. she had it all planned, no doubt.
we had WKD and pringles and your friend’s mum’s wine and somewhere in between the truth and dare and spin the bottle all mixed into one, i kissed your ex. and so did you. and then you both laid on my bosom. my harem.

it was all jokey and fun and whatnot else, but it’s not how i approach my relationships. it’s not how i roll. and what if this pulls us apart? you felt guilty kissing her, you said. i didn’t. it was all so absurd i almost couldn’t believe it was true.
but it happened.

and we left just before clock stroke midnight, because i guess there’s a cinderella lost in me, and you held me tight a few steps away from the house and kissed me fevereshly. adrenaline of fear had washed our bodies: we could have kissed all night.

and i don’t regret any of it.
so why do i feel so broken inside?

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53. arterial spray

i only stop when i know i’ve had enough.
i guess i haven’t had my fill just yet.

you’ve gone to france, as you always do. your second life, i call it, but i dont blame you: that’s what a lifetime of living with parents who are teachers does to you. four weeks this time; it’ll be five the next or six, or whatever. but i’ve stopped counting the days. i learnt to live without salting my wounds.

Y went camping with his blonde, though she’s not blonde now but rather a seductive red. they’ve been together months now. it’ll be a year soon. october, i think.
he was meant to come back yesterday, but his phone was off. i called him twice. twice is always my limit.
i know i’ll call him again.

X is just an ex. we speak sporadically on msn and i’ve not been on the computer for days. i just couldn’t face the lonely screen staring in my face. i wanted physical contact, the sound of someone’s, anyone’s voice reverbrating in my eardrums.
and i read books. sartre, “streetcar named desire” and anais nin with her erotica. that put me down, but then, i wanted to be put down. sometimes there comes a point in our lives when we can no longer continue to believe in what we are believing until we see what else there is to see.

then there was Z. another reunion. he called me just now. for no reason. he didn’t say so, but then he rarely says a lot. he’s coming back from wales today. he was away for a week, but what more is there to it? it was another failed lesson in love for him, but i know i’m not the one to teach him.
in the end of all ends, i love you.

and i met your ex too on the days. that was fun. hurt me like crazy but it had to be done.
somewhere in between “the spy in the house of love” and “the age of reason”, i’d lost my wits. literature has a way of doing that to you.
i needed to see her. 
i needed to feel the arterial spray of your past on my face. 

let her do her worst i thought and damn, she tried her best.

43. and the glass slipper never shatters

our whole life is a mess of those fridays. we know them so well. the fridays when we go somewhere and one of us, at some point, any point at all, ends up feeling miserable.

i’m no magician, my love. can’t turn grey into a million of colours, can barely turn grey at all. but together we almost manage, the shade changing from darkness to light, from dawn to night.
friday was nothing more than that, you must understand. a sort of middle ground for all our ghosts to come out. and mine did. X was there, as was his new love interest, or rather his soon-to-be ex-love-interest.
she goes through men faster than i go through lingerie and yes, we know her. she catches our train sometimes and don’t you just love the way she talks of her life so freely? i never could quite muster that attitude. you know the one: where casual sex is just another bad habit she really must give up; where a ciggie on the sly hasn’t hurt anyone and two-timing is merely a way to make two people happy at the same time.
but no, i do exaggerate.

still, do not think me bitter for i am not. not at all. and it only seems so because i’d rather people see a tint of jealousy in me than see nothing at all.

and you must remember your promise: you said you won’t get upset at such occasions. 
and when the past runs before your retinas again, scanning for weakness, don’t be too quick to give up on our happy ending, where cinderella meets her prince charming.

and the glass slipper never shatters.

32. took me like a spell

after monday it seems like we are treading on broken eggshells, not knowing what to say or do. not even knowing why the whole world seems to have tumbled in our paths. and yet it’s not hurting us, just making us stronger, more resilient, more aware of each other’s wants and needs and loves.
and it’s odd but something clicked just then, something that changed our lives inconspicuously, like the faintest rainbow that brings to life even the gloomiest skies.

and i wonder if you’d have told me last night that you were in love with me if something, anything in our lives was different. and i only wonder because i want to believe that you meant it. i want to believe it so much that a violent spasm constricts my chest every time i think about your love giftwrapped and placed upon my heart. your faith in my trust, my trust in your faith, like a gold chain upon my neck, intervined.  

i don’t care if you’re not in love with me, but i’m in love with you was what you said and somehow that took me like a spell in the midst of all that i was feeling then. somehow it didn’t matter that you still cared about your ex or that i was insecure about everything from “a” all the way through to “z”.

i almost believe in magic again.

16. but that’s ok

the past two days have been all about A: her problems, tears, hopes, dreams and pains.
and that’s ok.
i can understand that.

she wakes me up at two in the morning with her phonecall, but doesn’t listen to what i have to say. she’s angry, she’s upset, but that’s ok. i let that go, even though i end up having only 3 hours of sleep in the end. because she’s hurting.

she makes me meet up with her the next day, on my christmas ( orthodox christian’s christmas is on the seventh of january. don’t asky me why), and has me stay with her the whole day, but doesn’t want to hear my reassurances.
but that’s ok, i understand.

she has me call up her ex, discuss it all with him, try to instill a sense of guilt in him ( for what? for him wanting to be merely friends now that, having dumped him, she wants him back? ) but that’s ok, because she’s my friend.

and i could go on, but i won’t. she hasn’t been the best character in the past two days. but that’s ok. after all, we all have those moments, don’t we?  

some of us just deal better with them, rely on others less and aren’t scared of new beginnings.

all she needs is just a little practice…