Her hands trembled and her eyes sparkled with shields of glass made of hot grains of anger. She cries easily. Whenever she is so emotionally charged, she pours it all out quickly and that helps her shrug off anything quite fast.. fast enough for people to take her for granted. She could feel the thoughts in her head strangling the words in her throat, nothing is coming out of her. A knife is tearing her within and her brain is too shocked to trigger a scream or an SOS.
The current times are no different from the times before. Her life seems to have been going on for an era upon era and history always .. always repeats itself. She is older and wiser, and she could see that all her beginnings and all her endings are identical. Like low-budget movies happening in a poor studio with the same scenery and cast. The writer is masterful though, convincing her every time that she is starring in a new blockbuster, but in fact the story never changes.
She is the enemy of her own self . She has got to admit it. Her mind is always working to dwindle the efforts she exerts in search of a new road, where beginnings have a colorful sunrise, and endings are painted with a promising sunset.
But she thought she was finally approaching peaceful acceptance, this state of being but not actually being. It is the negativity enshrouded in a false positive aura. Acceptance.. the word created to subdue our ambition to change and our graceful attempts to reach higher.
However, it was pointless to struggle or hang on to false hopes; her relationships are all carbon copies. There will never be a right person, she always attracts the wrong ones. No.. that’s not accurate..SHE is the problem. She induces a strange behavior from those around her. Putting them under pressure with her expectations, protective instinct, and too much caring, they feel guilty .. morally obliged to reciprocate when they do not genuinely want to. And then, they go down the path of resistance.. the tormenting road of confusion and hesitation. They want her or they want her not. One day they bring her closer, the next they kick her out; driving her mad, with ruthless false shiny hopes, while they toil with decisions. Until one day… they tell her off, because too much care and love could kill.. both.. the lover and the beloved!
She has to accept that the problem lies within, and fixing it is beyond her. All she could do is stop being passionate and hopeful. She must never get excited about new relationships. People are nicer when they are standing on the shore of her life. They all think they want to join her boat, but the minute she lets them on board, it seems all they want to do is jump out. “No problem, but please do not break my ship before you go… please!” Yet, they do.. and the journey seems to always be about patching up the ship while it is aimlessly floating. The helm has no captain and the boat no haven.
Lately, she had believed she regained control. She had thought she finally acquired deceptive indifference towards life. So how did she end up feeling so violated and offended!
Approaching her thirties, and she still is as emotionally strung as a teenager. Words and looks affect her, take her up or down, shake her head, and bring her inside out. No confidence in herself whatsoever yet she still trusts people and she lets herself become vulnerable over and over.
Once more, she finds herself reliant on the subtlest gesture of tenderness and affection from someone else’s end, and the simplest of words to soothe her and reassure her, to keep her balanced until it’s time for the next dose of confidence boost.
Obviously, he has read her book cover to cover. She has granted yet another person the power to play with her mind and mess it up, blow up her brains and tip off her fake sense of stability and inner peace. Someone else can make her very happy or very sad, ecstatic or depressed.
It’s all coming back to her now; the anxiety and the restless wait for emotional confirmation, for the very little attention, for a hint here or there to make her feel like the woman she never was and never will be.
They were all attracted to her because her care was limitless. They softened against her eagerness to give despite their stinginess. Her loyalty shocked them, it’s like nothing they have experienced before. They soothed her with their sweet words and then stabbed her with their indifference. They flew her to the moon and then flagrantly shrugged off responsibility the minute she had let her guards down. She would swallow her pride and continue to give, regardless. Never once did she leave. She stayed … while they walked all over her, sucking up her energy, drying up her fountain, and soaking up all the passion she could offer to the world.
Like many of her friends, she had declared earlier to the world her affirmed disbelief in Love. But as with all issues of the soul, secretly, she has never ceased wishing it existed. She has become a realist and a cynical on the surface, but a hopeless romantic inside, waiting for a prince charming to rock her earth from a parting between the clouds.
And here he is now. Casually, prancing around with a phony shield on a frail horse, armed with the fewest of words..words that her immature self still craves.
He says the cheesy lines, she soars, he turns around, and he acts indifferently. The actions once more leave her bewildered and abandoned, confused and wounded.
No.. this time it is a big fat NO.
She couldn’t remember how many streets did she roam before she found herself standing in front of his door. The tears with the words flooded out:
“The only thing I ask of you is to stop and to leave me alone. Stop saying the things you do. Stop using my vulnerabilities against me. I trusted you! If you are just doing this to make me constantly hooked .. to keep me addicted, don’t! I promise you I am not going any where. I will continue to give regardless, because I do care about you and I want to continue to give. But I beg you.. spare me the sweet talk, the insincere promises, the fake insinuations, and the vague commitments. If you do not want to be with me, do not make me think otherwise.
If you cannot make a decision, then stop looking at me as if you want nothing else from the world but me. If you are scared of who you are when you are around me and you do not want this person, I understand. But you do not have to show me that cold face and push me away with shoulders made of steel. I do not want yet another person who is torn between admitting or resisting me.
“Don’t play with me the wicked game of words. It could kill me and I do not want to believe that you would actually enjoy or want that.
“So just please let me be! “