A photo…
Hanging on the wall in front of
me. Two people walking in the street. A man and a woman. Both have a beautiful
brown hair, nice bodies and elegant clothes. I can only see their backs. And he
has a possessive hand around the back of her neck. It is intimate, it is
beautiful, it is familiar. It is …love.
Loneliness is eating me alive. I
look at the photo and I despair. I despair because I want a possessive hand
around the back of my neck as well. I want it to feel too familiar that I do
not even realize it is there. I want it to be a part of my life that I am used
to, I want it there for as long as I may live. I want to feel it and realize it
does not give me butterflies in my stomach anymore, because it is no longer
new.
Helplessness is eating me alive.
I am alone and I cannot do anything about it. Would it have been different have
I been a man? Would I have been the man who gets what he wants, and who he
wants? Does this feeling has anything to do with me being a woman?
I am afraid… I am afraid I will
have this feeling of longing and loneliness for the rest of my life, until I
see the hope and the prime of my youth fade away. I am afraid of keeping on
despairing until the day I realize that hope is dead. That even despair is
useless because it is over. I feel like crying but I cannot because I am among
people.
I do not understand myself
sometimes. So here I am complaining about being lonely and how I hate the
feeling. However, I would do anything to leave my parents’ house and live
alone. Am I contradicting myself? Or maybe there is a difference between
loneliness and independence. I want to have a life where I am free. I do not
want to have to explain to my parents where I am going and when and with whom,
not that I have many problems with it to be honest. I want to be able to play
music any hour of the day and dance to it. I want to be on my own. This has
nothing to do with wanting to be in love I think, right?
I am really fifty shades of
fucked up, aren't I? my head is full of things I want to do, places I want to
be, things I want to be, but here I am, sitting on my ass, doing nothing but
thinking about it, or writing about it.
I am seriously terrified of not
falling in love again. Is this it? Is it over for me? I see people around me,
girls and women fall in love and/or get married and I am standing here,
thinking maybe it is a matter of time. Then I see other women, beautiful,
successful, almost or over forty who are not married and maybe won’t be ever. I
cannot help but thinking what about them? Maybe I will end up like them, the
smart, brilliant university professor who is not married although she is over
forty now. Everybody will be feeling sorry for me. Hey, I will be feeling sorry
for me.
So what happens next?
I know I have a very unrealistic
idea about marriage, I see my married friends and they tell me it is not easy
at all. Deep inside I fear it. But I have to face it, I am a hopeless romantic.
I want to be loved and desired.
So why do I always get involved
with the wrong men? The wrong, married men who do not really want me but want to
enjoy what they can with me?
And there is the fear that I
experience regarding my thesis, and the despair I feel because I cannot find a
scholarship, and how I spend money like crazy, and my inability to commit to a
losing weight plan.
Do I need to see a shrink? When
will I realize that I need to see a shrink?
It is time to go home I think.
I am so not alright.
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