Lost Self

Sitting in my living room, rush of thoughts from the night before hunt my memory.. In the floor to ceiling glass door, I can make out my reflection, who is she?? She has green puffy eyes (she’s been crying all night) swollen lips, distended face… And of course, fat (that’s what the voice in her head tells her, and she’s good at pointing out every flaw).. Who is this girl, I don’t recognize her.. Somewhere in my mind lies my self esteem, shattered to pieces, and I can’t seem to put it back together.. Ana seems stronger this time.  With all the wedding stress, the easiest thing to do is focus on what she has to say..
“He called it off because you drive him crazy, and you are not good enough for him”… Fight after fight, may actually confirm her words… What went wrong?  How can the death of a fairy tale come so quick before it even started??? You would think that after five years, lots of effort, and tears, and love, this type of struggle and confusion would not happen… Life, as always, has other plans.. Slap lessons find their way in, and you are left baffled in the mist of problems..
In all this confusion I wonder, is love enough? Were the Beatles wrong?  How does one know it is the right moment, the right person, the right conditions… to start working on a future that so long ago seemed beautiful and extremely possible, and that now seems further away than it has ever seemed before… After each fight, how does one manage to keep love alive, perhaps by unwrapping layers of anger like tissue paper wrapping a present, deep down, it must still be there… I know that is how I feel, unequivocally, I am truly sure that I love him.. the problem comes when I no longer seem to know that he feels the same way.. Does he get that emptiness-butterflies-in the stomach feeling when he thinks of me, or when he sees me, or before dialing my number.. Do I take his breath away with every kiss, like he does to me.. Does he get lost in my eyes, like I do in his? His big brown-long eyelashes eyes, are an ocean of wonder to me… Every cell in my body craves his attention, his touch, his caress, his love…
Once again the voice says to me “you are not good enough for him, look at yourself, who wants to be with, or touch someone like you”.. And now, I can’t help but believe her…

Back

I cannot believe how long I have deprived myself from writing, funny how responsibilities find a way to seep through our hobbies and push them aside. Truth is, it shows, my mind feels more stressed than usual. As the only means of stress release, not writing really gets to me.  But with finals out-of-the-way, I can breathe and pick up from where I left off, trying to organize my mind, make it peaceful… A sanctuary as oppose to my torture, the thing is your mind is the one place you can’t hide or run away from… But somehow with writing (and definitely running) I can push my thoughts aside, and relax.. must not stop writing, must not stop writing…