Waterfalls

Why do I feel so goddamn old? Me, who used to suffer a minor trombosis whenever a child called me auntie, now feel calm and serene when called that. Like it’s my right, as an elder, which I'm not.

I feel ancient, like my bones should ache as much as my heart and mind does. Like my body should be more bent, and I even find myself walking uncomfortably.

Love has been closed off somewhere in the maze of hiding places inside me. I imagine it looks like a huge catacomb, that just stretches endlessly into the dark. Somewhere in there, is what I believed I deserve, love. Changed my mind about that, think now, that its just a dream some people have, like mass hysteria, real for those who experience it, but something silly and irrelevant for those of us, who don’t. I consider myself a ‘non-loved’ one.

Maybe I had that dream too, and when I woke up, blocked the memory of it, cos sometimes my heart feels like lead, and my legs can’t stand the weight. In my mind I sink to the floor, all dramatic-like, and sit, panting, too exhausted and heavy to move. In reality, I sometimes feel nauseous from all the tears I swallow. Can’t let them fall, no no, can’t let them show.

Anyway. I’ve finally given up on maybe. Maybe tomorrow, someone will see me, maybe the day after, maybe before I’m too old, maybe, someone will realize that I’m worth something. What-the-fuck-ing-ever. Not gonna happen. And, right about now, my mom would be getting very pissed off with me if she read this, cos she believes that we create what we express. Which I believe in too, cept I don’t believe that we spend this life talking and expressing things, and they materialize on command. I believe that there is a pre-approved life plan, and I’ve come to believe that mine does not include the thing I describe as love.

And, just because I feel like giving a lengthy explanation of why I believe this, here it is:

Since teenaged, I cannot remember one single relationship that I even called a relationship, and I have recently come to the realization, that I actually had a few relationships, seriously, I just never thought they meant enough (to me) to count.
Then I married a typical “perpetual boy”-type, who in the end irritated me so much, that it took years for me to have any kind feelings toward him, keep in mind, that’s years after the divorce!
My next enterprise into the hemisphere of “love” involved my first and only one-night stand, with (unbeknownst to me) an engaged guy on his bachelors night. Realising that I was being sent home like a used toy the morning after, left me shaking (literally) and feeling dirty and worthless, always a good feeling when freshly divorced.
Next, a year and a half of e-mails with a lover from across the ocean, met here while on a selfless mission to help us poor third-worlders by sharing his skills. While here, I noticed a few quirks, but decided I could live with them, since I’m not exactly quirk-less myself. He was sweet, smart, treated me like an equal, and made me feel beautiful, appreciated and wanted (shoulda known there was something seriously wrong right there, shouldn’t I?) Go visit him in the snow, to explore the possibility of getting married (YIKES!) and moving there. Discover he is a sado-masochistic bastard who treats me like a mindless little pet, something that needs to be herded around the streets of his world like a cute, but dumb, little lamb. Spent about 2 weeks sleeping on the floor in his study in the middle of the crazy northern winter.
Almost up to date. After 2 years of celibacy, met up with a man I used to like in school, at a night club (which makes so much sense now). After giving him my number rather reluctantly, I slept with him on the first night (unheard of, for me) still don’t fully understand why. Noticed after about 3 weeks that he drinks rather heavily, and questioned him about it. Upon realizing that he is a full-blown alcoholic (shoulda seen that one coming, shouldn’t I?) I spent the next 10 months (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) trying to understand why I should stay, and compete with a bottle for affection. He tried to explain, god knows, but I still don’t get how dousing everything with spirits makes it better (stupid blonde!). Finally managed to convince him I’m really not joking when I say I don’t want to see him anymore, 2 days ago. Yay for me!

I asked my mom (she thought I was joking) what other category of freak she thinks will pick me next. I wasn’t joking though. So now, I’ve decided not to buy tickets anymore. You know, you can’t win lotto if you don’t play? Well that’s my thinking about “love”. Can’t attract flies if you don’t smell. This person’s pheromones are staying in her panty from now on. Maybe (there’s that word again) I’ll dry up fast and painlessly. And maybe (aaaaargghhhh) I won’t feel like I’m being torn apart limb by limb from the vibrations of a shrinking, shrieking, heart.

If someone with Sight told me that I came here to love I would’ve believed, cos my soul feels like it carries around this huge amount of unused love, which is, I guess, what makes me feel so heavy, and worn. Pity really, the world should have at least one use for love, you’d think. But maybe (!) mine’s defective. In my defense, so am I, so that remark is not as self-pitying as it sounds. Just realistic. So god-damn deadeningly realistic.

These days, I perpetually feel like crying, like my brain’s turned into an ocean behind my eyes, trying to spill over. Like if I start crying, my face and chest, pelvis and legs will become the backdrop for one of those spectacular waterfalls, like it wouldn’t ever stop, and I’ll become the crying one, that looks like a waterfall. Cool. At least I’ll be something. After a few years my face and breasts would wear away, and I’ll be all smooth and beautiful, and the only sign of life, would be the beautiful water, falling and falling and falling.