Diktionart

A letter to you

Dear You,

You pretend to be cold and indifferent, but I know you, I understand you, and love flows through your veins. You are not afraid to give love when it comes to the right person. You are, however, terrified to receive love. You’ve spent a considerable amount of effort in building a protective armor around yourself to avoid the painful wounds that others could inflict upon your skin if such a shield were not present. You recoil as if the giver of such affections disgusts you. Love makes you uncomfortable and you don’t know what to do when there is too much of it aimed at you. It frightens you to think that someone could care for you so deeply. You believe that you are a defective human being. Who in their right mind would deem such a damaged person worthy of their love and affection? So you run away. You are trying to be different but it’s hard when people are constantly hurting you. You don’t believe the world is against you, you are just choosing the wrong people to care for.

Sometimes, you get it right. Sometimes you choose good people to surround yourself with. You chose to keep me in your life after all. Do not mistake this statement as my being a vain, egomaniac. I say this only because I love you. Also because every so often you’ll show me how much you love me too. I don’t know if you understand the depth of my feelings for you. I will be there for you when you need me, whether you’re bored and you want someone to watch a movie with or whether you need me to be your rock when you are at your lowest. 

We are great friends and I am forever grateful for that. But I have the great misfortune of being in love with you. It is my misfortune because you don’t love me back, not in the way that I yearn for. So here I am, carrying around a broken heart in your honour. Even though I have a collection of tears and emotional scars with your name on them, I am glad I met you. I just want you to know that whatever happens after we part ways (it’s inevitable given our circumstances), I will love you forever. I don’t care if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t care if you don’t think you deserve it, just accept it. 

Love,

Me

He is more than just a friend

I guess there was always a mutual attraction between us. We are very good friends, but yes, I do admit there is something there that goes beyond friendship, however small it is. No, it is not far-reaching. I am not in love with him, I don’t get butterflies thinking about him. I don’t know what to call it exactly…a crush? And there is no doubt that he feels the same, whatever that feeling is. He is, however, in a serious relationship with a woman he plans to marry someday. I can hear the gears in your mind working already, you’re wondering if this is going to be a story about a home-wrecking slut aren’t you? Well, it’s only the first paragraph. This is the proverbial tip of the iceberg.

*

We became close after our weekend trip to a nearby city with a group of our friends.

We were outside in some square in the centre of the city, goofing off and fooling around. He spun me around and I fell on the ground. Then I saw something that tore my heart to pieces, I broke down and started crying. He thought it was because I fell on the ground and he started apologizing, hugging me. But I told him it wasn’t because of that as the tears were streaming down my face. He took me aside, away from the others and asked me what was wrong. I was surprised by how concerned he looked. I wouldn’t tell him what was bothering me, I couldn’t at that point, I wasn’t ready. 

We were sitting against the side of a building, the night air was calm and cool. There was hardly anyone on the street. He kept asking me over and over, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”. And then he guessed it. “Is it because of her?”. Bullseye. It was because of her. It was because I saw her with him, another friend of ours. I saw them kissing in the bar before we all went outside. Then we walked to the square and I saw them lying on the bench together, looking up at the stars. How fucking romantic. It made me sick. And that’s when I broke down. She saw me crying and approached me but I walked away as quickly as I could, I couldn’t stand the sight of her at that point.

I shook my head from side to side as an answer, or rather, a false answer, to his question. No, it’s not because of her…But it is, it is always about her. He kept guessing, Was it because of this person, that person? I kept saying no to everything. He kept saying all these wonderful things to me, that I was one of the nicest, prettiest girls he’s ever met. Even as I sat there, tears free falling down my face, heart broken, feeling more deflated than I ever have in my life, I couldn’t help but feel flattered, even though I didn’t fully believe it myself. Still, the kind flattery did little to ease the pain I felt in that moment.

He started revealing things about himself to me. He was painfully shy when he was younger and one way to overcome that shyness was acting classes. He’s good at doing impressions. I told him that I also used to be very shy. He said that was hard for him to believe.

Once, he came close to dying due to the horrible food poisoning he got. He lost a bunch of weight and his face was sunken in, he didn’t look like himself. 

“Now you have to tell me what’s wrong. I told you about myself. You can trust me, nobody will know, not this person, not that person.” I wanted so badly to tell him everything, but I couldn’t muster up the courage. I had been hiding so long that I didn’t know how to be free of the lie. “Is it physical or is it a matter of the heart?” I pointed to my chest. He hugged me. Eventually we walked back to our hotel.

When we arrived home from our trip, I get a message from him online. Again, he asked me what was bothering me. I told him that sometimes I wish I didn’t care so much because in the end, it only gets me hurt. Indeed, it was a vague answer, but true nonetheless. He said that if I ever needed to talk, his door is always open. 

Two days later, I texted him. “Hey, can we talk?”. He replied, “Yes, after work”. I guess the weight of my secrets broke me once and for all. The pain was too much for me to bear on my own anymore; it was time that I relieve some of that burden. 

I went to his place, I sat on his bed and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I exhaled, “This is really hard for me.” I told him, my voice quivering, “It was because of her.” It was no surprise to him. I talked with him for three hours. I told him how I struggled for a very long time with my sexuality, how deeply I felt for my friend and how confused she made me feel with her behaviour. 

I would come to him often times after that, crying my eyes out like a pathetic little girl because of my broken heart and he would be there, holding me, telling me how amazing I am and how I need to forget my feelings for her and how she didn’t deserve me (a statement I’m still not sure I understand to this day). Bless him for putting up with my crying and whining. Most of the time though, he would invite me over to his place. Sometimes he gets lonely too, I guess.

*

Many times, I would just lie with him on his bed, my head on his chest. I could hear the loud, constant rhythm of his heartbeat. His strong arms are around me and my arms are around him. I feel safe with him. Every so often he would plant kisses on my head or my cheek. His fingers are running up and down my arm, gently caressing me, comforting me. Sometimes he’ll play with my hair. Sometimes he’ll massage my shoulders. Sometimes he will caress the bridge of my nose or my cheek with his finger. His hands would find themselves underneath my shirt, softly caressing my back and my stomach. He also likes to place them on my backside. His wandering hands would prefer the feel of my skin, rather than the feel of cotton underwear. Sometimes I would stop him, sometimes I would let him touch me. He isn’t afraid to touch me where he is not supposed to (he never went there, though). His touch felt nice. Sometimes I close my eyes, sometimes I keep them open. Always, my mind is racing. Always, she is the reason for that.

*

We never slept together. We never even kissed…with the exception of that one time on New Years, he pointed to his mouth and said “Kiss me”, so I did. I quickly pecked him on the lips. We were both in a drunken stupor. I’m not sure if that’s an excuse. I never asked him about it, I don’t even know if he remembers that moment. It’s hard for me to remember what his lips felt like.

A part of me feels guilty about how we behave together. He is in a relationship. If I were his girlfriend and knew what was going on between him and a female friend of his, I would be livid.

Another part of me doesn’t care. After being single my entire life, after being unable to be my true self due to crippling fear, after all this pain from loving someone who can’t love me back, don’t I deserve this kind of affection and intimacy? Don’t I deserve this closeness with someone? Haven’t I waited long enough? It may be incredibly selfish of me, but I don’t ask for much.

*

“If I was single, I would definitely try something with you.” He said to me on a few occasions.

“If you were single, maybe I would have tried something with you.” I only told him this once, but I had thought about many times before. Now that I think about it again, I probably wouldn’t have. 

*

Sure, we’ve crossed a line somewhere. We’ve blurred the divide between friendship and romance. And this is what we did with the circumstances we were put in/created for ourselves. 

I guess I should have mentioned that we are both abroad, away from our perspective homes. He is constantly having a hard time being away from his girlfriend, his love. He never felt like this city was home, even if there are many things he loves about it. His head and his heart is back in his home country. He also needs sex. Being without it is driving him insane. He hasn’t cheated, though. He’ll be going home soon to see his girlfriend. That should be fun for both of them.

I, on the other hand, feel at home here. Maybe not in every sense of the word, but it’s like a second home. Here is where I met my friend, I consider her to be one of my best friends and one of the most important people in my life. I fell in love with her in such a short amount of time. My feelings went from indifference, to friendship, to feelings and finally, to love. I could have never imagined that someone could have such a profound effect on me. I always wondered what it would feel like to care about someone this much. No matter how much you imagine it, it can never measure up to the reality of it when actually happens. How can one person take so much space inside my head? How could someone cut me this deeply?

*

We both know we will never be together. Nor do we want to be together. The very image of us being a couple feels wrong to me. He has someone he loves, and I am in love with someone else. I don’t think I could ever be in a relationship with a man anyways. Soon, he will move away, and the same goes for me. We hope to meet again in the future, but as friends.

So, knowing this, we lean on each other and we allow ourselves to muddy the waters of our friendship. We cross that line, but never too far. We provide each other comfort in times of need. We have a deep trust in each other. We both need physical touch; we both need intimacy. We act as each other’s temporary solution to the absence of these things. We both need to feel love. And we do love each other very much. 

But, with all that being said, he should be lying on his bed, holding his girlfriend, caressing her back, playing with her hair, massaging her shoulders, not mine. I should be sitting on the couch watching a movie, my arm around someone I love, someone who loves me back…a girl. In a sense, we are both wrong for each other, but right now, while we are transitioning from one chapter of our lives to the next, we couldn’t be more right.

Anonymous asked: Do you really want a relationship, or are you just afraid of being alone?

A relationship. I never went looking for one and up until now I’ve never been in one. I’m still young, but at my age, that’s a long time to be single. I found someone I want and truly care about very deeply. It’s too bad that the feelings are mostly one sided, at least I think so.

I’m lucky enough to have good friends and family. I am grateful for the people in my life, but the current relationships I have in my life cannot give me what a romantic relationship can. So in that sense, I am tired of being ‘alone’. However, being alone can mean different things.

For anyone who isn’t “worthy”

This is what I believe: You don’t think you deserve a love that’s true and pure. You don’t believe that you deserve somebody who will give you the world, somebody who makes you feel special and loved. You want that big, passionate love, the kind that people write about, the kind that lifts you up and warms you up, the kind that puts a huge smile on your face. You want it, your heart aches for it, you yearn for it, but I can see you don’t think you’re worthy of it. So you run into the arms of someone who can’t give you what you really need. You chase after someone who gives you just enough for you to keep running back, but not enough to make you feel special the way that you deserve. I know you deserve it, but you need to believe it. You need to love yourself first before you can really love someone else, before you can be in a healthy relationship.

What happens when someone loves you so much that it hurts them? What would you do if you knew there was someone out there who thought the world of you? Would you run away if they told you that you were all they thought about? How would you feel if you knew that there was someone who would do anything for you, even things they didn’t want to simply because they loved you? 

Well, what does it matter what I say? I’ve never even been in a relationship, let alone in love…right?

Happier times…

I want to remember what it was like to be light and happy…I want to remember what it’s like to laugh and laugh and laugh until your stomach hurts and you can barely speak. I want to remember what it’s like to have my biggest concern be where to eat dinner after work.

It’s sad the way sadness inspires people, isn’t it? Yet there is a dark beauty in the way pain can trigger your creativity and desire to create. It’s like saying, “Hey, watch me paint a picture with the blood from my bleeding heart.” The picture may be ugly and uninspiring to some, to others it could be a work of art. But at least to the painter, it’s raw, it’s real, it’s true, and perhaps most important of all, it’s a release. The act of creating the picture is therapeutic. It can mean the difference between tipping over edge and keeping your balance, even if you find yourself swaying from side to side now and then.

i let it happen to easily and now i’m full of regret

tell me how something that feels so good can feel so damn bad

is it easy for you drag my broken heart around

i can see the trail you’re leaving

you prepetuate the bleeding

do you even know it

it takes too much of my time

takes too much of my mind

right brain left brain fucked up brain

soaked in pain

you’re so forgiveable 

and i hate you for it

but i hate me more

i don’t care

I don’t care because it hurts too much…Trying to think about anything but you…I don’t care, no I don’t…It doesn’t matter if you let another touch you…and if you tell me, I won’t hurt because it doesn’t bother me, not anymore…I don’t care I don’t care it doesn’t matter to me what you do with another…you don’t want me but I’m not bothered…I’m not hurting…no it doesn’t hurt me

what