The Eighth Year

Dear world, we have been a long way!

Eight years ago I posted my very first post on this blog. In my seventh blog anniversary, and as I was celebrating by spamming my social media timelines with re-posts of my old favorite posts. My mentor sent me a message commenting on one of my posts saying that he would like me to write for his newborn project.

The mentor was Abdullah Kamal and the newborn project was DotMsr. Few months later, he suggested that I should write about relationships.

Honestly, I was hesitated. Whatever I have been writing about relationships has been a reflection of completely personal experiences. I have been writing to heal my broken heart.

But he, my mentor, was very supportive. He told me not to worry about my “self centered” writing style. He said, that’s exactly what we want.

It happened! I got my first article published on dotmsr in last May. And a month later, I published my very first article about sex. The reactions to this article made me doubt the whole thing of the “writing dream”.

Some people called me sexually obsessed. Others went on congratulating me on being “bold and brave”. But what got to me the most was the sincere advice that I shouldn’t be focusing on relationships. Those who advised against this direction of writing said I had more potential, and made relationships look so trivial for a deep girl to tackle.

I took my worries and went back to my mentor, crying. I asked him how I would know if the advice was sincere or not. And for the last time, he guided my through fog ,as he died a couple of days after this conversation.

It had been an overwhelming year!

The thing that I never expected when I first started writing about relationships is that being “self centered” yet having to write to a diversified audience would help me figure out lots of things about myself.

I don’t write about myself for dotmsr, I did it once or twice. I actually write about relationships' topics after I research them and match what I have found to what I have experienced.

I have had some “eureka” moments. I have learned about myself and about others. It has been stressing and not in the least therapeutic yet I believe that it is totally worth it.

In my eighth year, I still dare not call myself a writer. But I can happily declare that I have been enjoying a fairytale. I am writing, I am self discovering and I am being read.

I wish my mentor was here. I miss him every step of the way.

Dear world, thank you for reading!

Why?!

Ok!

This needs to be said out loud!

I can't get over Mr. Abdullah's death. I am stuck between denial and anger.

I act like I have accepted it but I don't.

I keep thinking it is just a silly dream and I will eventually wake up. And when I realize that the silly dream is my reality I feel nothing but pure anger.

I never thought I would ever ask him this question ..

"Why did you come into my life? And why did you leave?!"

Attachments Again

I get attached!

I get attached to people and I get attached to things.

I get attached to potential.

I get attached to hope.

It always end up bad.

I try not to get attached but I am just an orphan kitten looking for a sign of a promise that there will be tomorrow and there won't be pain.

Home

I have been having this feeling for a while. I don't feel home while I am home.

I rarely go out. But sometimes when I do I don't feel like I want to go home.

Sometimes I wish time stops and I spend the rest of my life in a single moment.

I wanna go home! 

Another Confession

I just wanted to share my little victories with someone who would be as excited as I am.

Not being able to do this. Not having a person who searches for signs of "my dream coming true" and being as happy as I am is killing something in me.

I am not sure whether this is good or bad.

But I have always imagined sharing little victories with someone who cares ...

Another fairy tale dead!

The Cocoon

I spent months on the couch. I tell everyone I am busy, which is true, yet I have been busy all my life and managed to make time to go out and meet people.

I can't remember exactly when it started. But probably it started by avoiding meeting people who ask the "why aren't you married yet" question.
Then I dumped my job and started avoiding people who ask the "why you don't work" question.
Then I was too fat. I didn't realize I was too fat till "Brad" started listing the things he finds "off" in me.
I lost weight yet I never regained the appetite for people. I kept avoiding them.

I have been avoiding meeting a friend who I really like for years because I believe if he met me in flesh and bones he'd be turned off and I'd lose him forever.

Now the cocoon is tightening more. I feel I should avoid communication with people all together. Because the more they see the more they leave.

I lost my charms somewhere down the way.

It is exhausting!

Piles

It is like I am piling up emotions and dragging the piles around.

There is a huge pile called I misd Abdullah.

Another pile labeled defeat.

A pile named after H.

A pile of insecurities.

A pile of uncertainties.

A pile of fear.

And a huge pile of loneliness.

I keep moving around dragging all these feelings.

I have no idea how to deal with them.

A Paradox

So we shouldn't date "The Dildo" in the same sense we should never marry "The sperm donor". But isn't dating "The Dildo" better than masturbation?! 

Side Notes

* I need to know the reason behind my aggression and depression.

* The problem was never that I fail to attract men. I am a male magnet (I believe every woman is) but the problem starts after the initial attraction. They get closer and the moment the relationship gets cozy they run away.
It is either there is something terribly wrong with me for them to stay. Or I terribly scare them away.
Both ways I am terrible hence they run away!

* I was told that if I think I don't have a life, then who does?
Which is a good point. I have a super busy life. I dare to say it was fulfilling at many points.
I am just drained ... I don't know what do to or where to go.

* I don't give in to hugs. I keep saying I need a hug but I have been given random hugs by lots of random people.
I failed to connect. I failed to channel any kind of positive emotions.

Depression!

Sameh thinks that I need to learn how to be happy. He might be right. Yet, I think I know how to be happy. It is just I am way too depressed; happiness has become a burden of its own.

Ok .. let’s take it slow.

I am sad. I am disappointed. I was happy earlier this year! I was too happy that I even blogged about it.

But now I am not.

I am sad. I am disappointed. I feel like a failure. I feel worthless. And all what I could think of is death. Maybe I should die and let go of all these feelings.

I also feel guilty for feeling sad. I seem to ruin everyone’s merriness.

I feel guilty because my feelings mean that I have lost my faith. And truth is, maybe I did.

I seriously find no point in anything.

I have been crying since I woke up this morning and I don’t seem to be able to stop.

I have no future. I am done covering up my failure with big words.

I am a total failure. A life unworthy of living.

But isn’t it unfair that I can’t live?

I’ve been trying. So hard … I have done my best.

But my best was never enough.

I am never enough.

I don’t need reminders that I have a life that lots will wish to have. I don’t need reminders of how much I am blessed.

I know, and I feel guilty enough.

Enough reminding me of how much a brat I could be because I am not.

I am sad, disappointed and tired. 

On Validation

I know I have been writing too much about myself lately. But I think I am blogging my feelings away.

So there was that moment, when at what was supposed to be a professional meeting gone bad, when the guy looked at me after almost 45 mins of trying to talk me out of an idea and said, you are smart and passionate. he said other things too, but I honestly shut off his "praise">

You know why?

Because I realized that I don't need his validation, the same way I didn't really need anyone's validation.

I know I seem to be begging for validation.


But honestly, I shut off the "praise".

I validate myself!

Soreness

I like a guy, which isn’t news. I am single, I have been single for so long. I have been juggling “rebounds” or maybe “hopes” of decent relationships.

But this time, I could tell that I like a guy. I like the chemistry we have and I like the worlds he shows me in every conversation we have.

Yet … I am not going to follow through.

Usually, at this stage when the guy seems so appealing I would make sure he knows I am interested. And later on, I’d try to take it further.

But this time I am not going to do. I am enjoying the safety of liking from a far.

Why?

Don’t mistake this for wisdom. It is pure lack of confidence.

I don’t think I have what it gets to get the guy interested/ keep him interested.

I have put on weight, I am still being called hottie but I feel fat. I have been fighting acne for years. I am a no one. I am 35 with no brilliant career and no clear “future”.

How is that supposed to be attractive?

And this is how sore defeat is.

Here we go again

All what I want is a hug. It's becoming seriously annoying. I tease friends so they send me virtual hugs.
I don't want virtual hugs anymore.
And I don't want just another casual hug.

I need a deep hug. A hug that means something.

A hug that feels home.

I don't feel home anymore, I am constantly lost.

On Daydreaming

I get attached to the things I imagine.

I Want!

I want to be loved sincerely and persistently.

I want to be loved the same way I loved all the men who left me for other women.

I want to be loved for who I am. I want to be taken the way I am.

I want to be loved deeply. I want to be surrounded, begged and needed.

I want to be loved, for a change.

On Closures

I wrote him a long email explaining why I had to decline his offer.

But I didn't send it.

I would have sent it if he asked.

I have done everything I could. I have walked the extra mile.

I think it is over ... but i am not sure if it is ok.

Defeat

I feel defeated!

I had a series of surprise birthday parties/ gifts/ texts & phone calls. Part of this could be attributed to the fact that I have plenty of loving friends and family. And part could be attributed to the fact that I changed the settings to my birthday on facebook to public. I decided as a treat for my 35^th birthday to indulge in self celebratory attitude. Guess what? It worked. And I had one of the best birthdays in my 35 yrs.

Yet that leads us back to the defeat.

I feel defeated!

And this defeat could be put in one sentence. I am never enough!

I am never enough … and it is exhausting. It has been exhausting all my life to try to be of worth.

And now as I realize that I have lost each and every battle I have ever been at, I am starting to wonder what does a person do after losing the war?

I have spent all my life thinking that all what you have to do is keep fighting. You keep trying. You never give up. You don’t quit. I have spent all my life believing that losing a battle doesn’t mean losing the whole war.

But I feel defeated.

I have no energy to fight. But I have no idea what do you do with defeat!

On a Side Note

It was 2008 or maybe 2009 when I told Brad that my wish for the new year/ birthday is to have a healthy relationship.

It is 2014 and I still didn't get the healthy relationship I wanted.
I got lots of men but no relationships.
I got lots of desire but no feelings.

I am still trapped in the old corner of needs, wants and disappointments.

But it is ok ... it is ok.

I give up

35th ... L' Année Abdullah Kamal

Today I cross the 35th mark. A point of contemplation about the past and consideration of what the future might offer.

But today I have no intention to share neither the past contemplations nor the future considerations.

Today is about my 35^th year. If I could give this year a name it will definitely be “Abdullah Kamal”

I had an overwhelming year!

A year that was full of victories (both big and small), love, wisdom, joy, fairy tales and loss.

This overwhelmingly overwhelming year was courtesy of him.

He simply changed my life. He made it bearable. He gave me hope when nothing in this world promised hope. He believed in me, he constantly supported me; he gave me intensive doses of confidence.

He was a miracle. He was my proof that God listened. He was the answer to all my prayers.

He was my mentor, my guide, the light that led me out of the deep dark hole of depression.

He fixed me. He made writing this post possible. I am not as sore. I can look back at my pains and see that they led to new places, places that might or might not be better places yet the journey was totally worth it.

He was my miracle.

But then he died.

One minute he was here the next he wasn’t and life hasn’t been the same.

I miss him in ways that can’t be put in words. It is like I am walking around with a huge pile of feelings. I know I miss him, I know he’s dead and I know he won’t be back. But I don’t know what to do about all these.

I look around for guidance and he’s not here. And no one could ever fill his place.

It is overwhelming.

I am 35. I am grateful. And I will miss Abdullah Kamal every step of the way.

Loneliness Again!

You can't break out of the loneliness jail …

On availability

I studied economics for a good part of my life. And in every page I read there was a clear message "be scarce". Scarcity derives the supply and demand and sets the prices.

Scarcity is the core of the economic theory as much as it is the core of life.

Love is a market that's governed with scarcity too.

A person will walk the extra mile only if you are out of reach.

He will call to check if he can't find traces of you to tell him how you have been.

He will ask to meet if he can't find enough room to talk.

He will propose only if he fears to lose you to someone else.

In a world derived by scarcity I am too available.

I have blogs, twitter and a bi-weekly article for DotMsr (you can find an updated list of the published articles here)

He can always read me. He can never miss me. And he can always find reasons to stay away.

I am too available for him, any him, to love me!

M

Remember M?
The guy who followed HH and was right before Brad?
No he isn't back. I was just thinking that I might have broken his hreat in a way.

Well I didn't yet the last thing he ever said to me was " Shimaa you never loved me and you never loved anyone but yourself"

That was after I decided to ignore his call and take Brad's call.
I told him it was simple before that day he was my number one. But left me. His wedding was few days away. And he clearly stated that he can't be mine.

So Brad was a rebound, maybe not, but he was a decent chance at a decent relationship. Why would i turn it down?

And that wasn't few days after M breaking up with me. It was almost a year after. A year full of drama. A year where he did his best to hurt me.
Yet he had the guts to call me selfish!
Because I was attempting to mirror his behavior.
I just pushed him back in my priority list. I wasn't his number one, he didn't want me to emotionally depend on him ... etc.
So why so angry when I did what he wanted me to do?

I think he never thought i'd be able to move on. I loved him dearly. I did everything just to get back together. When we did he was surprised that though I still loved him yet that love was different.
My love was sore!
He couldn't get it as much as he couldn't get the fact that I have chosen to love him and be with him from a line of men.

He, for some reason, couldn't see any men in my future.
Well, I am still unmarried, all my men lovers and friends were sure I am not going to get married but that never meant I will never have other men. I still have men! I think I will always do.

Anyway, M wasn't the only man who couldn't get that I am always having someone in line waiting for me to say yes.

Maybe I was never a marraige material which made my men so sure that I will never be taken and it will always be safe to dump me.
A man can dump me then come back later and enjoy the ex's priviledge.

I kinda of lost point here ...

My love was sore and he called me selfish.

On Hormones

They would tell you lots of things about the female hormones.
They would warn you of mood swings and irritability.
They will portray it as a temporary thing.

A monthly wave of irrationality ...

Yet they miss to warn you of the hormones' logic.
Under the influence of your hormones you will start applying a different form of logic to analyze facts.

You start building on theories so strong.

What no one would dare saying outloud is the fact that hormones go but the theories you built stay.

Only the next time your hormones hit you will start acting explicitly based on them. For the rest of time, they are the undertone of everything you say or do.

Back to Drama!

So he died!

The man who gave me the most overwhelming year and a half in my life just died. One minute he was here and the other he was gone.

A month later, I still check his social media accounts the 1st thing in the morning as I have used to do for the last year and half.

Part of me is still waiting for him. I miss him in so many ways that I don't think anyone would get. And I am not really able to express.

I miss him ... He is dead.

No one comes back from the dead.

Before meeting him, I was living life one day at a time. I lost believing in "tomorrow". The past was full of pain the present was unbearable and consequently the future promised nothing less than what they had to offer.

Then he gave me a job, a chance and almost a daily dose of communication. Half the way of the project I was working on I started to realise that I have lost my attitude towards life.

I have been doing something that I love, and I have been working with someone who appreciates the little things I notice and make sure to let me know he has noticed me efforts and the points I bring onto the project.

Life was perfect. Even when I lost the man I loved like no one else. Life was still "liveable".


By the end of that project he gave me the best surprise in my life. He asked me to write to his new online newspaper. He said I am talented and I had something to say. He said that my blogs have good content.

He was who he was. What he said that night was one of the biggest confidence boosts I ever got in my whole life.

For a while after that, everything in my life seemed ok. All the pain, the broken hearts, the disappointments, the failures ... everything seemed ok because all of these added up to that moment of pure joy.

If it weren't for the pain, the heartbreaks and the disappointments I wasn't going to ever meet him.

He came into my life and suddenly .. It was full of meaning.

It was ok ...

I got published.

I had/ have a line of men waiting on me to say yes (still to sex but it didn't sound as bad because I was published!)

Life was perfect. I was happy. And I didn't want to hide it. Because I have been sad for God knows how many years.


Then he died ...


I am still published ... I still have the long line of men waiting on me to say yes (still for sex) some are ex's and some are new but it isn't ok anymore.

The long line of horny men isn't ok anyone. The yes or no aren't ideas that I would happily entertain as I think about the new article I am writing.

It isn't ok. It was never ok!

My life is made of wait and temporary fixes.

I have been waiting all my life for things. I have been persisting to get things done.

I have been living on temporary fixes till something happens.


If you can't find a good job, do whatever job you can find till something happens.

If your lover can't be the man you want him to be, do whatever till he comes around.

If you can't find someone to love you, do with whoever pretends he loves you while all what he wants is to jump into your pants.


Work, Wait and Persist! You will eventually do it!


Guess what?

He died!

The man you "love" is married!

And the best you can score of men are whores!

Status quo

She never stopped writing and he never stopped reading.

In another life

Her: What if I died? What if you died? What if we didn't?!

Him: I love you ... But I can't.

Her: I don't want you to die!

On Needs

Sameh used to tell me that my problem is that I keep mixing between what I need and what I want.

He might be right because my list of needs includes lots of silly things.

* I need a hug. A squeezing hug. A hug that I didn't ask for.
Not only a hug. I need to be hugged by a man. Not my father, not my brother and not any of my uncles.
I need a squeezing hug by a man who loves me enough to take me into his arms and squeeze my fears and issues out of my bones.

* I need emotional safety. I need to be, again, liked for who I am. To be adored regardless my imperfections.

* I need not to nag or beg. I need things to go the way that I want without having to fight neither myself nor anyone else.

* I need fruitful talks. I need someone who puts me ahead of other things and maybe equally to himself. Again someone who isn't obliged to do it by blood.

I need a man. I could go about and say lots of things but deep down it is all about needing a man to genuinely love me.

I need to be loved the way I want. At least when I really need it.

I need a man ... but apparently the universe believes it is not a need. It is a mere "want" that could be skipped.

The Drill

A couple of years ago I was watching Grey's Anatomy and I envied Meredith and the gang for having Dr.Webber.

I wanted to have my Dr.Webber too. I wanted someone to guide me without being controlling. Someone who would help me reach parts of my hidden potential and push me to find more.

I wanted my Richard Webber and God was kind and gave me Abdullah Kamal.

He died suddenly on Friday the 13th. His kind heart failed him and us.

I have spent years trying to explain loss to people but loss can't be explained.
No one would get it unless they walked down the same dark isle.

I know the drill. I have been there, I have done that.

And the worst part is ... it gets worse with time.

This too shall pass ... over my heart!

The Burden of Writing!

I have been writing all my life. When I started this blog it was a way to lighten the weight of the love life/ life drama.

Writing had been my therapist and my therapy.

Then my dream came true!

And finally I am writing and someone, somewhere is reading. Someone that I don't know of.

And that someone is judging me because I am the girl who wrote about the "Burden of Sex"!

Phew!

You can find the article here: http://www.dotmsr.com/ar/204/1/17954/#.U5YoyhnfrqA

News Alert

Today is the day my life begins!

I tried not to be so dramatic about yet I have shared all types of sorrows and heartbreaks here. Happiness deserves it share of drama too :)

I am PUBLISHED

You can find the firt article here http://www.dotmsr.com/ar/204/1/4952/#.U4BsfPmSy2Y

It is in Arabic. (Yay for writing in Arabic too)

Hopefully it won't be the last article.

I am happy. 

There is a lot of people that I would like to thank and hug right now. I think they will all be reading this. 

I love you all.

اللهم لك الشكر :)

Classic!

The story goes like this. He just fits. In every possible aspect. But he left.
Then someone comes along. He doesn't fit but he is going to stay.

What would a smart girl do?

What would I do?

May 5th

It has been a year since I last met him.

A full year in a roller-coaster ride!

I am exhausted.

I have complicated my life in ways that I don't like to think about.

I thought it partially fixed me but I just realized missing him have screwed me in so many ways that can't be undone.

It has been a year and dating other men still tastes like cheating.

Life goes on but maybe the heart doesn't.

A Serious of Pointless Posts - 5

We are not supposed to marry the sperm donor but we can date the dilido right?

Mediocre

This needs to be said out loud!

I think I should give up the whole writing thing.

I am making a fool of myself.

I am just a pathetic girl who is way too coward to face the world so she writes her worries down.

This shouldn't be called writing.

It is a pathetic act from a pathetic person.

I am mediocrity in flesh and bones.

A Bluff

So he blamed me for blogging about him and when I told him I could stop doing it if he wants he replies that he doesn't care ...


So maybe he doesn't care if I mentioned his full name and maybe his phone number too!


Just bluffing!

And here is the point.

I am so predictable!


I will get angry, threat something really crazy that will make you regret even knowing me in the 1st place but I will actually do nothing.

The rule is, if I am really going to do anything. I won't be talking about it.

This is an old lesson that I have learned reading Adham Sabry.

You don't talk, you act then talk to the corpse!

As long as I am talking then I will do no harm.


I do no harm!

Idiot!

I am angry and brokenhearted!

I vent to the void!

This is what keeps me going!

O!

Social media changed the face of the world!

I know this is an overly used cliché but I can’t help but using it. It changed how we interact with people and how we view ourselves. It sort of inflated our egos, and unleashed denser versions of us.

Social media allows you to show off your trophies, hide your vulnerabilities, sympathize (or pretend to do) and most importantly judge others, through judging their work/ creations/ thoughts, by easily “rating” them.

GoodReads is what I call the facebook of readers. Before being introduced to it I had troubles remembering which books I read, and which I should have on my to-read list. I had a very annoying habit of buying multiple issues of the very same book. Which I believe is expected because duh! I liked it once; I’d like it every time I see it!

Goodreads came to the rescue. Not only I could organize the books I read and plan for future readings but also I can show them off, make friends based on showing off what I read, recommend what I think might interest my new friends and finally get a sense of accomplishment by rating and reviewing the books I read.

And that “rating and reviewing” option seemed to be unleashing the “critique" in me.

The rating button is so tempting. I would rate a book the moment I finish it. I would carelessly write what could be safely called my 1^st impressions of a book and call them “reviews”.

The sense of accomplishment achieved by rating and reviewing books could be blamed for the fact that I forgot that ideas need time to settle down. I forgot that we don’t only read to get the ideas intended by the author but we also read to get the ideas inside us stirred.

And this sort of a long, yet I believe necessary, introduction for an “Erotica” review!

It was Valentine’s Day and people were all about love. An article somewhere suggested a list of “love themed readings”.  The story of O, the subject of this review, was included with a brief description comparing it to the infamous 50 shades of grey.

I only read the 1^st of the 3 parts 50 shades of grey saga. I found it deliciously shallow. A simple “impossible romance made possible” with a hint of sex. 50 shades of grey promises “BDSM” as a theme yet it didn't really deliver it, there was nothing kinky about it. It was played on the borders between “Vanilla” and the not so “Vanilla” sex.

Looking for a similar experience, I picked O. Yet O was disturbing! A deeply disturbing story!

I was looking for a light story about love, and O didn't deliver love. I expected few spanks and bossy sex yet O wasn't about sex. Instead I was introduced to seriously dark sides of human nature.

Flogging, prostituting, piercing and branding. These are not acts of love or lust.

Rating and “reviewing” O was a piece of cake. It is a bad book; don’t attempt reading it unless you are into seriously disturbing sexual fantasies.

But then … I let the book sink in!

The book was written in the 1950s by a woman who used an alias. It was “revolutionary” at the time it was published. Rating it more than half a century later is sort of unfair. Because in part, when you rate a book, you rate the novelty of the idea, and the bravery of the author.

Books discussing BDSM these days are neither new nor brave! But regardless the bravery and novelty the book is still disturbing!

How could a young successful woman consensually submit to her lover who in turn gives her away to someone else!

That someone would put on chains with his name on her genitals and brand her like cattle then offer her to groups of his friends like an object. Later, in the suppressed ending of the story, he dumps her!

And it was those very disturbing actions sinking in what made me review my “review” of O.

Because maybe after all the story is about really love.

The key word was “Informed consent”.

Nothing was inflicted upon O by force to which she had not already consented.

She didn’t attempt to break free from her “bonds”. She wore them proudly as they were the sign of belonging to her lover.Nothing was keeping her “enslaved” except her love and her self-enslavement.

She submitted as an act of love.

She submitted in order to keep her lover.

She simply gave away parts of herself to please the person she loves. And as desperate as this sounds but this is something that everyone does on daily basis!

We shove bits and pieces of who we are to please/ be with the people we love. We call it sacrifice.

Again it is all about “Informed consent”.

We fall in love and we agree ahead to the things that will be “inflicted” upon us as a result to this love without knowing what they will be.

We simply play along. And we choose not to escape. Nothing keeps as bounded to whatever is inflicted on us except our “Love”.

And just like O, maybe we will end up dumped or dead after going through all forms of pain.

I am not sure whether or not the author intended her erotica to hold a deeper message about love or life. All what I know is that she wrote it to the man she loved as a part of a dare that women can’t write erotica.

Well … apparently she won because it was a success. Yet again it will only pass as an erotica by the 1950s standards. It has almost no sex, plenty of torture and the only love in it you will find it here.

I think it is time to re-rate the story of O again!

Between a Rock & a Hard Place

It is really simple. I have been suffering for months. My heart is being crushed day in/ day out.

I have tried everything possible. I am even half a step away from fulfilling a childhood dream.

I ate. I shopped. I worked. I dated men.

I did everything I could do. Yet I am stuck.

I fail.

And he is happy.

He is married. He is doing all the things he said he doesn't want to do.

I am stuck. I am struggling. I am in pain.

I am tired.

I don't even know how do I feel.

It is just painful.

I am stuck.

I am too old for this.

I am not supposed to be feeling this way.

I am stuck! And I am being crushed by my own feelings.

The Death of the Fairytale

I have always wanted a fairytale. Deep inside me there is a little girl who is waiting for her prince charming.  Deep down I believe in true love. I believe that love conquers all.

With every relationship a part of me looked for the fairytale. I waited for my men to come around. I wanted them to choose me.  I believed our love will conquer all.

It just didn’t happen but I didn’t really care. I kept believing in magic, I kept the little girl and her fairytale alive regardless what I really said.

Then I met him!

He didn’t believe in magic. He repeatedly said that our problem is that I hate reality while he is real. He spoke facts. He said that life had no fairytales.

For the 1^st time I thought maybe I should let go of the fairytale. Maybe love doesn’t really conquer all. 

He left proving once again that love isn’t enough. That there is no prince charming who would conquer all to be beside his princess.

But that wasn’t what killed the fairytale. What really deprived me from my belief in magic is the fact that he left to get back to his ex wife.

He left to be with what he repeatedly described as an obnoxious woman.

The excuse he has been giving to the world is “I am doing it for my daughter”.

But what he is really doing is that he is pretending to be happily in love with the mother.

He is giving the little kid a proof that love conquers all. His is giving her a fairytale. Her father and mother who got divorced for years are getting back together.

A prince charming is coming around for his princess.

The man who never believed in magic is turning into a magician. The man who said he doesn’t want his kid to believe in fairytales is making a fairytale come to true to please the little girl. The man who said I live in my dreams while he is nothing but reality stole my fairytale and gave it to them.

My fairytale is dead.

Day in/ Day out

The point is I don't want to do any of the things I am doing.

I didn't want to do any of the things I have done.

But I have to keep doing. I have to keep trying. I have to move on. Because moving on is what rational people do.

Yet I don't want to. I didn't want it to end.

I wanted days with him. I wanted years of us sharing a bed, a couch, a cup of coffee, a book, a bath and a full life.

I wanted to have heated sex and discussions.

I wanted lots of things ... for the very 1st time in my life I knew what i wanted exactly.

But I have to move on. I have to keep doing all the things I don't want to do. I have to stay busy. I have to keep trying.

This is what rational people do!

6 months later ...

I miss him in so many ways ...  It is crippling!