A Dying World Keeps Smiling

Once upon a time I was that cynical girl who scoffed at the idea of love. Love was just a fairytale. A nice idea but it wasn't real. When I heard friends and strangers talk of how they couldn't leave the one they loved or put up with the bull**** the one they loved put them through I'd roll my eyes in distaste. Fool was a word that would come to mind.

Then everything changed. What was intended as a fling with a known manw***e and long time vague friend turned into the strongest most important relationship in my life. Three months of bliss. A very small time but those were very happy months minus the freak out of realizing I had actually fallen in love in spite of my original intentions. We were happy. We made each other happy. We were each other's world and we did everything to spoil each other rotten.

But there's always the other part to it. The love of my life was also up to some things that got him in a lot of legal trouble. My whole world fell apart when he was taken from my apartment one morning; I was robbed of the man who had been spending the week looking after me because I was sick. When I went to the police station finally with the help of a long distant friend who was the only one who would help I found him writing a letter to me thinking he f****d up big time. That was the first time I saw him cry. He was so relieved and happy to see me.

A few days later he was sentenced to three months. In those days I busied myself with cleaning his house and fixing it the best I could for the real estate and getting his stuff sent to storage. I fought with his mother who did and said some things that no human being let alone someone's own mother should do. And amongst the chaos and nearly losing my job I would go and visit him every weekend. We wrote to each other. By the end of his time we were writing 30, 40, 50 page letters to each other. He would call me whenever he could and I'd jump whenever my phone rang, despair whenever it was playing up. My bed was so empty. It was made worse a month in when charges from the past got him an additional two and a half months. The wait would be longer.

Those near six months were a roller-coaster of depression, a ride I wanted to get off so badly because it hurt but the idea of leaving him behind hurt just as bad if not worse. So I persevered. Then finally came the day where I got him back. Nothing could wipe the smile off my face. I was so happy to have him back, to have him home. He meant the world to me and still does. But the last four months haven't been as great as they use to.

Fights about his mother, fights about his dogs, fights about rumours that he vehemently denies of his return to what took him away. Then there's the girl he spends all his time with. A girl who has confessed to wanting him. Since he came back he would always be away. I'd barely ever see him and when I did one of us was either about to sleep or he'd want money, "love", or food. The insecurities were pulled to the surface easily when close friends told me the rumours with 100% faith that they weren't just rumours. Despite all my efforts to be happy with him we'd fight more. I'd tell him to leave then immediately regret it because I never wanted him to in the first place. I was just hurt. I love him so much and he's always the first thought in my mind but it feels I'm the last in his. Now he spends a lot of time with this girl who on the one occasion I've "met" her she didn't even talk to me. She spoke to the other girl who'd come to see him. He doesn't text me unless he has to since our last fight, one where we both said some hurtful things.

My chest constantly hurts and I don't eat. Depression piles up, adds to it with the death of a family member and no consolation from him at all. I love him so much and it breaks my heart because I'm convinced he hates me. I'll try and talk to him and all I get in return is silence or anger. The logical side that use to hold my cynicism tells me to leave him because he has no consideration for me. Our fight over him getting another dog and not keeping his rooms in the house clean in spite of my irritated OCD. In spite of all the cons I can list, in spite of there being no relationship to save as he's never around my heart still says it wants him and won't let him go. The pain of that...it makes me wonder at all the ways I might off myself. Then every now and then when I'm crying and dying inside he does something that makes me think that maybe it's all in my head.

How does one trust the heart when it causes such pain? It refuses to let one protect it from being broken and allows it to happen again and again.
DyingSmile DyingSmile
22-25, F
Dec 14, 2012