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For You, From Me-Please comment


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This is kind of auto-biographial, basically a release for all the s*** bottled up in me right now. Kind of creative but not really. I'll stop boring you now and let you read it.

For you,

I realised today, for the first time in my entire life, that there is not enough love in the world.

I was sitting in my non-existence, in my usual forgotten dream when I was cruel brought down from my fairytale. I?ve been living in a lie. In extreme naivety. I thought of you. But then again, when am I not thinking about you? I thought of you and my only wish: the wish that you could be happy. I?ve noticed the lines form in your face from holding back the tears and the utter resentment when looking at me. I never thought it would get as far as resentment, I always presumed that compassion for a fellow human being would be left when all else fails. I suppose now I know. I always thought I was one of the intellectuals; the thinking type. But this?this, I don?t really know any adjectives or nouns that are suitable. But this?love. It seems to have deluded me into thinking I can be a better person.

But there?s not enough love. All those times I?ve thought, whispered secretly at night when I?ve done the unmentionable, ?Maybe if I changed this??; ?Maybe if she wasn?t in the way??; ?Maybe if I was a nicer person??;?Maybe if I was different??. I lived in a world of ?maybe if? ?s. and those re-occurring memories of ?helpful? friends and acquaintances. The compliments not gained but pleaded for, the reassurances from those not even sure themselves. Them telling me that I?m better than all this. Even you telling me I?m better than this. Nothing seems to sink in because too much love is surrounding me. Not surrounding, being given off freely and not returned.

In some ways I wish I could start over and not be so open to hurt. For every time you gave me the time of day or one of those smiles, scars appeared because for you they mean nothing. Nothingness and emptiness are all I lived for. All I wanted to die for. The never-ending cycle of you falling out with her and getting back together tore me and my ability to have relationships, romantic or not, with others apart. It soon ended up that my lack of being there for people at home affected my family life; the one thing I thought I could fall back on. I suppose it?s not all my fault. I suppose we?re not really broken anyway. The only thing that stops us becoming a completely broken home is our united lack of effort to fix it. And my friends??my? friends. It is laughable to even think they?re mine more than yours. You are the one they idolise and I?m the one they sympathise with. Loneliness comes in the package deal with heartache, I suppose.

So I wandered aimlessly, after contemplating all this in my state of non-existence. I refuse to reminisce again about the time you told me that you used to like me. Used to. It?s too painful for me to think about because I ruined everything, as always. The confessions I?ve made in letters I never sent are still true. I still do cry myself to sleep every night. I still do feel a constant pain in my heart. I still do hate you. But I?m ok, I?m dealing with it. What else can I do in a world where there?s not enough love? Not enough to make you love me back. Just the slightest amount to make me dizzy with infatuation and sick with heartache. Not enough or me to even like myself slightly. Enough to make me love you unconditionally.

Enough for me not to care if your whole body was disfigured because I know you. I know every good thing about you and I know that if my willingness to bring out those aspects persevered you wouldn?t feel self-conscious. But not know you have a trail of people telling you how much they adore you. It?s not the right time for me to really talk to you. Maybe there will never be any time for me to do that. My self-doubt stops me from telling you, face-to-face, how I feel. Because I know I wouldn?t want the response.

So, with this thought in my mind, I wandered further than I?d ever been before. I paused outside your house, peered up from a distance at your window. I thought I saw you but it could have been a misleading shadow. I walked on, without a tear in my eye for once. I walked as far as I thought I could. Hands shaking, I wrote the last part of this note. The part where I?m sorry and stuff. Only, I?m not really sorry. I?m only sorry for the fact that there?s not enough love in this world. Maybe in the after-life, if I believe in that, there will be. So as I take my last breath and more importantly, think of you for the last time, know this: I love you.

With love always

From me.

Comments please.


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Mairi, I really respect you for being able to put your feelings down into words. In one way it's so hard to do, and in another way it's so easy because you are just overflowing with emotion. We appear to be in a similar place at the moment. Ending something before it's even really started. Loving someone unconditionally until you feel your heart and soul cannot give anymore, and then somehow managing to give even more and leaving nothing for yourself. Being rejected by them. It all hurts beyond your wildest dreams, you could never imagine this sort of emotional pain..

Trying to change yourself for that person is something I've done alot. It doesn't work. It makes you miserable. You become transparent. Living someone else's life makes you angry at that person in the long run. You are better than this situation, you are better than him, so much better. You don't deserve to be feeling this way, but I understand. I understand the grips of obsession and that terrible hunger for one more communication. It can lead to trouble, which is something I haven't discussed with anyone on here, but I know it is coming my way soon. Love, and lust are a bad addiction.

Hang in there, because there's at least one person on this forum feeling part of what you are feeling tonight. You certainly aren't alone hun.

You are right, there isn't enough love in the world. But there is alot of love for you and it's gonna find you sooner or later.

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  • 2 years later...

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