In time, I find the strength in myself to dare to forget

There were cat scratches. On my arms, neck and face. On the one hand, it was a loving, and on the other hand, pitiful sight. Could a love be this destructive? Apparently animals liked it that way.

When I looked in the mirror, I couldn't recognize myself anymore. Neither the face reflected in the mirror, nor the one behind it. Was I this weary spirit that gave up the struggle? Was he the man who made me question love all my life?

I no longer entered people's private spaces just because I wanted their well-being. If someone refuses to do something for themselves, I didn't expect them to do it for me. Now I was leaving those who wanted to be with me to their own will, and those who didn't want to be with me to their own will. I was no longer on a shoulder to cry over their sadness when their temporary enthusiasm and joy were over. It was a defensive instinct that had worked flawlessly so far. But I couldn't manage to leave them. Although they leave a pitiful feeling in my soul like cat scratches.

It was half past four in the night. He had come and snuggled next to me. I was startled as his icy feet touched my leg. And then that damn smell. I have a feeling like nausea. It wasn't nausea, but there was a feeling of vomiting. “How did the snow fill it?” he said. I opened my eyes and left the curtain ajar before going to bed next to my window. I knew it would be full, so when I opened my eyes between sleep, I wanted to see this beautiful view. It was well wrapped. But the feeling and the smell, which had passed for a moment, penetrated me again. I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to drink water. He came up to me and said "what's wrong". "I have a bad stomach" I said. Then I went back to bed and he came back to me. I said "to the one who changed" without turning my face towards him. He got up and changed. She went and washed her face and I think she sprayed her perfume. He came again. But nothing came to my nose other than that bad smell. It didn't even smell of perfume. I was sensitive to smells, normally, for example, I would detest the smell of disinfectant. I threw myself out of the bus with nausea because the woman sitting next to me on the bus smelled of disinfectant. I don't know if it means disinfectant + hospital + blood, that's why I hated hospitals. It might have something to do with getting me bleeding. But this other scent was something indescribable. I jumped out of bed again and headed for the bathroom. I wasn't going to vomit, I wanted to wash my face. Then I went to the living room and opened the window as if all I needed was oxygen. And the peace of the wife made me forget everything for five seconds. He came back and said "what's wrong". "It's the same smell again," I said. “What smell?” he said. I replied as if I didn't know. "Coming with you once in a while," I said. " how come?" she said. "I washed my face." I stopped and thought about whether or not to say "I wonder if you should take a shower?" said. He entered the shower. Then I threw all the clothes he took off into the machine. I literally washed the whole house with the smell of the room. Then I went to bed. And it came. Hugged. I hugged. I wanted to say a lot. I was angry. I was upset about it. Frankly, I couldn't bear it. What was there to drink? What was making him unhappy or what was his habit, what was more important than his life. Although I had spoken many times before, I had no strength to repeat these words, which were met with denial and objection and drove him away from me.

Not only to himself, but also to others with the evil he has done to himself. I did not deserve this punishment. In our last discussion, which started with the same smell, we compared yourself to the cat and said, "You love the cat even though it scratches you, you don't love me!" he said. And he kicked the poor cat out. We searched and scanned it in the middle of the night and found it under the stairs. But it was an animal. Instinctively she loved it like that. So why was he creating such deep wounds in my soul even though he was human? And why couldn't I just stick with him and get anywhere from this damn house...

I guess some things just didn't have an answer. Habits were not easy to break. The love that colored people had become a prisoner of habit, even though they did nothing but harm. He wanted a familiar face. Reminding him of his past. To break with the past meant to forget. Forgetting was unconsciousness. There was no conscious side to living like this. People don't change, but my attitude towards them was changing day by day. I was changing. If I find that strength in myself that I can afford to forget over time, maybe I could manage to go away from this animal love...