Still ...

Still not OK.
Getting on my nerves.
Why still lingering on?
Came across some photos ... 
But, it's my pain. My mind. My feelings. 
You are done with me. You are with her.
I am not her.
Will never be.
And you ... you will never be with me.
So simple.
So why ... why still this pain.
Those photos ...
Made me realise ... 
Move on girl, it's your last call ....
Move on ...

Missing.

The talks we had.
The thoughts we shared.
Our secrets.
The touches.
The time.
Being close.
I miss that.
Knowing, you're a complete idiot and a fool, doesn't help at the moment.
Realising, you're not the one, either.
Maybe, because I'm lonely.
Maybe, because I'm letting the last atoms of you out of me. 
It feels sad. 

Waiting for the click

So here I am again, waiting.
The click.
The famous click.
The click, after which nothing will be the same.
All will be different.
All will be good.
All will be forgiven, forgotten, let go.
I will be a whole new person.
Stronger, more confident. 
High self-esteem.
More beautiful.
The click.
In the meanwhile, I do nothing, of course, but waiting.
I stopped with the meditation.
I stopped with running.
I just manage through the day.
I did a lot of shopping lately.
Emptiness.
Pure emptiness.
Void.
Waiting.
When will the click come.

Drunken thoughts

After a looong time had a glass of wine. Or two.
I have really big glasses for wine. Really big. Because, you know, I'm a big girl and stuff like that.
Actually, he gave me those glasses. 
Appropriate.
Just a few days ago I finally gave in and went for a drink and lunch with him.
Innevitable question, what happened, why did I ignore him all these past couple of months.
Simple truth.
He just wasn't there for me. 
I needed him. 
He wasn't there.
Yes, he fell madly in love (this too shall pass).
But ... he just wasn't there.
And when he was, this one or maybe two times ... he just wanted to make sure that I'm OK about him and him being in love.
Yes, I am OK about him.
No, I was not OK about me then.
To short things up, he said he was sorry.
Like so many times before.
Middle-age crisis is a bitch. 
No fast car, no younger girlfriend, no dancing course can give you back what you have lost for good.
I have stepped back.
My work here is done.

Not angry anymore.

Today is sort of Alanis Morissette day. Have her Best Of album on repeat.
Still, You Oughta Know is my favourite song.
The lyrics.
The line:"Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?" is lately a lot on my mind.
It's not like we have been together, had a (love) relationship or something like that.
But you did called me a friend, a close friend.
And then, puff, it was all gone.
You just weren't there. 
Still expected of me to behave the same, to fall at your wink, to always be there for you.
As I was there for you throughout the summer. And fall. And winter. All the times you felt lonely.
I'm not bitter anymore because you moved on, found love and you're happy.
It's just ... you weren't there ... you are not here ... and you still think everything is OK.
You still expect me to feel highly of you. To "worship" you as I did before.
Think again.

Obsessions.

Figuring it out.
Changing one obsession with another.
Changing obsession with him for another.
I can perfectly see how I'm slipping into it.
I see it. Clearly.
Nevertheless, I'm slipping into it.
Starting to drown.
You know, when you need to stop it, but you still doing it.
All the fantasies, all the thoughts.
You say, stop it. Stop it right now, it does you no good.
You stop. For a minute. For couple of hours.
But then, he says he's trying to emotionaly blackmail you. Like, in a joke.
And then you say, fuck it.
You want emotional blackmail? I'll give you one. It will eat you up alive.
Subtle. Over time.
Don't play with me boy. You did me too much harm already.
I let you do this to me. 
But, here's the line. 
You shouldn't have tried it. 
Really, you shouldn't have.
I planted a seed. It will take some time to grow it. 
And when you realise it ... I will be gone.
I will no longer be even slightly involved in your life.
Not even to see it how it hits you.
You just weren't there for me. Not when I needed you the most.
Playing with my emotions. Manipulating. 
So not right.
It's not getting even. Or mad. 
It's just letting something happen.
Obsession.
You will feel what I mean.

Fitting in.

I miss writting. And I miss me.
Still tired, still overwhelmed with stuff going on inside my head.
Gained weight. Feeling sorry for myself.
Got a new loan. Paid some dues back.
He is utterly happy in his private life. Miserable at work. 
I am miserable privately and at work.
You can't really tell. I do smile a lot. And make fun. And make silly faces.
But I started to cry a lot, at home, in the silence of my flat.
Realised, the cool kids are cruel. And I just don't belong there.
Realised, I don't have much time left for the things I really need to do and change.
The pain in my chest is increasing. 
I get dizzy a lot.
A pile of worries gets over me.
One day I'm totally focused and disciplined.
One day I'm just a lazyass. Not moving a thing about myself and my life.
The breaking point is coming.
It started with a movie. Now with the book upon which said movie was made.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
I totally get it. I totally feel it. 
It scares me.
And it comforts me. I am not alone with this thoughts. These mind games.
Still refusing to make important changes. Still making excuses.
And still dreaming about a better life.
Well, better life will happen when the changes will be made. 
So.
I need to finish this book. And get some sleep. 
Tomorrow is the final day of my meditation class. I will get a certificate.
And I will start the lessons over again. 
Because I have skipped them too many. 
And in this class, the class of Life, skipping doesn't really pay up.