I knew it was coming
Knew that the mania that has consumed me for a week and a half would suddenly halt and I’d come crashing down
Maybe it’s reading words I wrote 4 years ago. Words I kept to myself for fear of hurting you. Words about all my doubts, my fears and how badly I just needed you there when I was facing loss after loss.
I was driving today, listening to Daisy Jones and The Six, the last show we watched together and the first book I’ve listened to since starting over.
There was a beautiful passage about wanting flame but needing water, and I so badly wanted to think it was true. That the flame I desire so badly, is a misguided character judgment and poor decision I’ve made.
I started to look at the room that I thought was so big, and felt like it was so small and none of my life could fit into it. I realised I tried to buy things and fill my life with things because of how empty and hollow I felt. And now? Now they have no place, which is somewhat bittersweet.
And this whole time, I’ve been worried about you and how you are coping. I’ve been living on cloud nine, ecstatic with my new found freedom and exhilarated by my sudden accessibility to choice.
I didn’t stop to check in on myself. I’ve been coming home at 12 and waking up at 5, living off two litres of caffeine a day.
Eating seems redundant and pointless right now, when all of a sudden I’m acutely aware of my appearance (or lack of) and the 20kgs I’ve put on since we met, feel heavier than anything else. How can I even contemplate dating while I look like this? How do I even compete with women who look like plastic dolls with size six waists and long blonde hair.
I might never find anyone else, and that is fucking terrifying.
The thing is, you need water to live, to sustain life, but you crave fire for the rush and sensation of desire. But I find myself wondering why I can’t have both.
And maybe my standards are too high or I’m out of my mind thinking one person can give it all to you. If they exist, where are they now and will I be good enough for them?
Or will they find me for the woman I am… 33, infertile and no assets to my name. It makes it hard to picture anyone wanting that let alone when I look the way I do.
It’s hard to know how to go on. Some days it feels entirely pointless. I think a part of me did this more for you than for me, knowing you’ll find someone to give you happiness, a child and a future which I could never.
And I will die alone, dog by my side and life wasted. Insignificant and unnotable.
