Today’s Daily Prompt asks us: “If bloggers had their own Halloween and could go from blog to blog collecting “treats,” what would your blog hand out?” So this shall sum up my blog quite nicely: it would hand out misery (seriously, read my blog – I got a lot of it. You can have some of it any time you want and not just on Halloween. Seriously, come back for some for Christmas and pick up extra for your friends and family.) and condoms. There’s 7+ BILLION people in the world! Do we really need to make more? By 2050 the ice caps are going to melt down and we will be at 8 billion fuckers. We got climate change that makes it really difficult to support the population we got already and we keep making more children? How about adopting some that are already here now? But I digress. And since we are fantasising, might as well make it big. I would not just give out the actual rubber condoms, I would also hand out the emotional ones that protect against the most insidious virus of all: love. That way you can be sure to remain safe until both you and your partner decide to stop using them and get infected together. But keep the other ones on! Keep using the (rubber) caps on your party bits so that the Poles (see what I did there) can keep their (ice) caps.
Monthly Archives: October 2013
Day 79. Broken.
Once upon a time, there lived… me. For a long time things worked exactly the same way. Not in a good way, mind you, but there was consistency to my choices in life. And although not a conscious one, it was a habit nevertheless. A habit that I did not break. Until one day I did. I met a girl and we hit it off. It did not work out and I was heartbroken. Now, dear reader, if you have been reading this blog prior to getting to this post, you might think that the girl in question is the one I have been writing about for the past few months. It is not that girl. But I digress. I was heartbroken and it took me a while to get over her. That fact that she was batshit insane helped me out a lot. And so things went back to normal. Well… My normal. Which is to say not normal for most people but whatever it was that made up normality for me. You get the point.
So I started walling myself off from people and emotions. Again. It is a sound emotional defence. If you do not get close to anybody than they cannot hurt you. It can only get you so far though. We need to feel emotional intimacy. Having felt it before, meant that I could not go back to the way things were. I broke my habit of taking myself out of the human equation. I tried other solutions. I started doing improv. Yet even there my habit of building a defensive shield around myself was a problem. Nobody wants to see a Dalek on stage. I started making new friends and getting perspective on my life. I started to feel more freely.
And then I met Her and my life has changed forever. I fell in love. I fell in love harder and with more openness than ever before. I had been living without feeling any emotional intimacy for so long that, having tasted it once before, I dove in head first with complete disregard for the likely dangers of doing so. The rest is history. You can pretty much guess what happened from the name of the blog alone. I went into a complete emotional breakdown.
And so hear I am. Broken. Wondering if it was worth it. If I figure it out, I will be sure to make another post.
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Day 72. My Gypsy Soul.
As I am writing this, the exotic sounds of Arabic fueled gypsy music are wafting through the Bohemian atmosphere of this weird cash-only bar.
Surrounded by the most diverse crowd of hipsters, artists, immigrants of all creeds and races (on a side note how is it possible that Eastern Europeans can manage to sound racist even when not trying to be? – overhearing conversations), my mind travels to places that I have only read about or seen in films or on television. And yet, my traitorous mind still manages to bring up the images of Her, my greatest love. She would love this place and this music. Whenever I imagine myself in some exotic locales, I keep seeing Her next to me.
The great thing about imagination is that I can imagine anything. So why do I keep thinking about Her rather than being happy without Her? She is not even that good looking. I can imagine being 6′ 4″ and being hugged by Uma Thurman but instead I dream about a plain looking girl with a very average body. But, of course, to me she is the most exquisite and intoxicating creature in the Universe.
I still love Her. I am so thoroughly fucked.
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Day 71. Busy.
Just to damn busy to write. Note to self: 1. Get some sleep. 2. Find time to write.
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Day 70. Fighting The Tilting Ghosts.
In the words of my mind technician I am in a perpetual state of preemptive warfare. This defence mechanism, however, is a double-edged sword without a hilt. While it protects me against people disappointing me, it does absolutely nothing in terms of getting people to actually like me. Shocking, I know!
For the longest time, loneliness has been my only companion. The only person who has been able to cut through that was Her. And now She’s gone. Gone forever and I feel the loss not only of what couples normally have but also of what I never had and never knew that I wanted or could even have. She gave me so much more that I could ever have hoped for and than She left and took it all with Her.
I can never unlearn what I discovered. I cannot go back to the way I was. I feel so lost without Her.
And I still love Her.
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Day 69. My Dark Passenger.
Two nights ago, while drinking a pint of beer, I thought that I might be regaining my sense of humour. Earlier that morning I had an ironic thought. Like, is there a 12 step program to quit the power greater than me, i.e., the love of my life? Or am I just supposed to drink?
But of course therein lies the problem: this is undeniably “my” sense of humour which is rather on the dark and depressing side. I have always considered my sense of humour to be one of my greatest assets even though I have not always used it for the power of Good and have managed to alienate some people. That sense of humour based on my rather negative worldview has been my “dark passenger.” In Jeff Lindsay’s books about the serial killer named Dexter Morgan (I believe there was a mildly popular American television series based on those books as well), the protagonist refers to his inner darkness – the essence that makes him the serial killer – as Dark Passenger. We’ll my sense of humour is my dark inner essence. I wonder if it will stay…
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Day 68. Living The Dream.
Some times I think that this thing I am living through is actually just a dream, a nightmare. And I think I am going to wake up from this any second now. But, unfortunately, this is one bad dream that I won’t be waking up front. I will be dealing with hot sweats and sleepless nights for quite some time.
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Day 67. A New Perspective?
After a lot of thinking I am starting to see Her in a more realistic fashion as opposed to putting her on a pedestal. I realise now that She treated me with contempt, disrespect, and a complete lack of consideration, and with disregard for my feelings. She has chosen to be angry at me for whatever it was that made Her angry rather than be my friend. She has abandoned me in my moment of direst need.
And yet, somehow, my feelings for Her are just as strong as they were three months ago.
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Day 66. Trying To Stay Calm And Carry On.
A good day of climbing today. Did some good routes and spent some quality time with friends on the cliffs. And now, after a good meal we are sitting around the fire and chilling.
So why does this seem like work? Why do I feel like fleeing people that have been my friends and climbing partner’s for over five years?
So I did flee. I’m sitting in the dark and listening to the waves of the tide coming in. It is quite peaceful. And cold. (It is fucking cold even in my pants that I usually wear for ice climbing and a down jacket. The temperature sure does change a lot in the North East.) I close my eyes and for a moment things disappear. Civilisation, politics, economy, my broken heart… it all fades away.
Could the heartbreak change things for me that much? I have always enjoyed spending time with these folks. I love sitting around the campfire and tell and listen to stories. But now it is different, unbearable even.
I have no answer. Best I can do is just amble on and hope that sooner or later I will find my path.
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Day 65. Clear My Mind.
Looks like I am again mountain bound for this weekend. I will try to take the time to enjoy myself and be in the moment rather than in the past.
Forlorn Hope: A Diary Of A Broken Heart 