The phase of doubt

 

In any relationship I go through the same phases. At the moment I'm finding my self in what I like to call the phase of doubt. It occurs after the first head over heals infatuation, when you are getting more comfortable with the other person, considering your future together and weather or not you really love him. Is this a man I can live with? Do I want to live with him? Could I marry him? Would he want to live with me or is he just with me until something better comes along? Would I keep his baby? Will we lat a life time without killing each other?

The normal questions that you can't ask straight out because you are not certain of the answer and to terrified to find out if the answer really is "NO".

And it seems to me, after too many failed relationships, that there really isn't any good answer, nor is there any comfort in this phase. There is hope.

H O P E.
I hate that. Hope. I mean, it is a good thing to have. Perfectly normal. But it is uncertain, and I think that is what I dislike. Uncertainty. Not knowing. not being able to underline the answer. And how can you underline an answer you do not have.

How do you put hope in a person that you do not know is going to catch you when you fall? And how do you make your self do that over and over again, when history clearly shows that it was not the smart thing to do?

How do I piece my heart together again and again and put it back on the slaughters block?

Of course there is sex. And the headless rush. Companionship. Friendship. Possible family. The two first set aside, as they are the once that will not last a life time, all the others can be achieved without the risk of heart ache. So why go through the trouble of hoping to trust someone new that has no reason not to break your heart? Is it just biology? The evolutionary need to procreate and to seek comfort and shelter for our offspring? Is it because of fear? Fear of being alone. Because you can get friendship and companionship without all those messy feeling. Those messy feeling that is currently making mash out of my brain.

To be continued. Hopefully... 

I have been taking psycho pharmaca for about six months, getting nothing more than lots of side effects and a great lack of feelings. At least so I thought. After a few days of withdrawal symptoms I got grief back, which I did not know I was "missing". I got hit of that pitch black pith of deep sorrow that consumes all. The endless feeling that nothing will ever be right again. There is a big, black whole sucking in energy, knocking the air out of me.

That is how I feel now. Tomorrow there is a funeral.  

I think I write only when I'm not satisfied with the nature of things or when I'm so taken aback that it doesn't occur to me to ask any questions. I like the latter reason. I truly do. But I am pondering the implications.

Probably because I am still waiting for punishment for what I have done. I do not believe I have done something wrong. However I do feel that social moral has some sort of grip of the tiny bit of moral I have hidden away.

I slept with an old friend. Now I'm waiting. For something. For some consequence of sorts. Cause there's always consequences. Always. No deed goes unpunished ever. There is a price to pay, I just don't know what it is yet. So I'm waiting, waiting...

crushed

My world completely fell apart about two weeks ago. My best friend got cancer. Then, week and a half, on pregnancy and one breast later they found that the cancer had spread. And now I'm the one who's not coping with it what so ever. After I went to see them in the hospital they seemed to fine with everything, and I can't get out the door sometimes cause I can't find a reason to get up in the morning. I can't even remember why I did get out of bed before this happened, but now it all seems pointless. Why should I get up when we're just gonna get cancer and die anyways. I keep waking up at night, bursting into tears everywhere and not seeing the point of finishing my master thesis when this is what awaits me.

In addition I might have let the perfect man walk out of my apartment and leave the country. He might even stay there.

L O S T

I love that I can google just about anything and then find it in pictures. That regardless how i feel, someone has already expressed it in some way I can relate to. There's always a photograph or a painting where I can get lost or where I can familiarize myself.

My life is gonna change soon, and I don't know which turn it's gonna take, and I'm wondering if the lost feeling I have inside is related to the different men in my life that I don't know how to be around. Or that I can't let go, cause he's the only consistent thing. The only thing that hasn't changed in a long way, but is about to.

I feel lost inside my self

sometimes the right thing is to give up

I'm wondering if the time has come