Mine is a constant revolution. In these last 10 years there have been many catastrophic events, disastrous falls and great recoveries, heavy moods that are difficult to manage and that I really don't know how I managed to overcome.
Today I feel like I'm growing, I feel somewhat serene even if I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up. At 50 you should be exactly where you wanted to be, I don't even know how I got there. I've made choices with my 'heart' and I've always bitterly regretted them; right now, looking back, I can say that I've really lived only when I made reasoned choices, when I understood that a pinch of reason would have made the difference. It really did. I could never put that damn pinch into my choice of loves. I have loved so much and instinctively, ending up in the heaviest and most complicated stories, in the most absurd men. I've always considered true love a visceral thing, something immediate and uncontrollable, that you can't choose: it's a spark that suddenly goes off and you burn in a second, there's nothing you can do about it. It still happens, even after years and especially now that I've decided not to commit to other stories.
Friends tell me that I am a unique person, that I am wasting so much, that there is a man out there who can give me happiness. I know they are right. My heart is tired and they don't know how much, they don't know how much pain I carry inside: they see a person laughing and joking, they saw me crying once, last week. They've known me for two years and I don't know what got into me that night, maybe it was the sangria or maybe because I was just saturated with these damn 9 years. I cried uncontrollably and I know I cried for a specific reason. The bad thing is that since that night I can't shake the melancholy and sadness, they stay fixed on me. I look at myself in the mirror and think that some things will never go away, that I will never be able to smooth certain marks, that despite how hard I try, some people will remain fixed in me.
I have resigned myself to having been their victim, the one who can be hurt without paying the consequences. I don't want any more marks and I don't want any more hands, I'm nauseated by the idea of having another story where I would always just be a plaything with no commitment. There's something out there. I want to challenge myself to do things I've never done, like drive to Naples alone, smile like nothing is wrong, sing in the car at the top of my lungs "just like Heaven" or "How soon is now?"... Break down the doors of my heart and eradicate certain black thoughts.... Another year is coming to an end.
Tomorrow... Tomorrow... Tomorrow.
[2019©Yelena b.]
All rights reserved
Pic from Pixabay
Very interesting