Picking up the pieces (or trying)
Funny. He decided to give it another try because he was feeling guilty for messing me up.
He kissed me, held me, held my hand, squeezed me. He told me "I love you". On Wednesday, on my birthday, we talked of how he was changing his mind again, of how his plans included a relationship at about 30, after all his other stuff was completed, Phd and all, of how, being a Christian, dating somebody meant some sort of prelude to marriage. I had to tell him that if you don't risk, you cannot know what will happen.
"That's what my mum/dad said too".
Outside Costa he hugs me, and asks me why I picked such a complicated guy.
At the cinema, we have to wait, and we hug several times. He holds me, standing behind me, his arms around me, something I love so much. During the movie I cry and cry, because I know what is going on; later we go for something to eat, and I can't eat, I know what is going to happen soon. He cannot eat either, "I don't know what's wrong", he says.
Funny, some weeks ago, a week exactly before we went back together, I asked him if he was hungry, and he said "No", and I asked him what was wrong with him, and we laughed. Things were easy, then, and our friendship was so strong and innocent and light. Still, there were things I couldn't tell him, and things I couldn't do, like hugging him, touching him.
On the way back home I remind him that some things cannot be planned, and this is such a precious thing that it would be crazy to throw it away, and he agrees.
Outside my house we hugged and hugged, and he told me not to be scared, which is what I told him when he said that sometimes he was scared, he panicked, and I had to confess that I was scared 24 hours a day, although not for the same reason (I didn't tell him that). We hugged and kissed, and I whispered "I love you", and he said "I love you too".
"You don't have to say it, you know".
"I mean it", he said.
"And with the help of God, to be with us, to keep things in control, yes?". When he mentions God is a bad sign, I think then. If he is asking for God's help now it means that he cannot handle it alone, and I am not enough for him. Oh no, not again, I think, and I know that the end is near.
I go to bed, and am troubled, very troubled, but a part of me is smiling anyway, because of the kisses, of the squeezes, like last Thursday, because it seems that talking has worked, this time. That we can make it, somehow. How easily can I deceive myself again.
I didn't think I would see him on Thursday, yet he texted me, asking me if he could come over for tea, and he arrived, slightly tipsy after being for a drink with some phd students and his professor. We spent almost two hours, hugging on the sofa, holding hands, talking, kissing. He was so sweet, we laughed and hugged, repeatedly. For a moment, for a moment, I thought we could make it. Because this love, this caressing and hugging, this sweet kissing, this bending down to kiss my hair, my cheek, this looking for my hand to hold and squeeze, this moving his arm around me, and pull me close, so that I can lay my head on his chest, feel his heart beat, hold him back...This must mean something, I'm sure. To him. Unless he is still trying to fool himself into thinking...who knows.
When he texted me today, I knew something was wrong. Yet I said yes, let's meet in town, I'll be at the library.
He arrived, so extremely upset. He walked to the sofa where I was sitting, he rushed to the sofa, such a grim look on his face; he sat by my side, almost collapsed by my side, without touching me, and when I asked him if he was ok, he said no. You look upset, I said, and boy was he upset. "I am", he said, and I was shocked and upset too at once, I saw it coming again; a part of him died right then.
"I'm not happy -he said - I think we should break up".
And I cannot really remember what else we said: something about him feeling guilty, and deciding to ask me back. Something about him being disappointed for not being able to make this thing work out. Something about me needing to move on, find somebody who won't mess me up.
Something about me being the one who has to decide if we will see again, if we will be friends, because he cannot expect me to want him as a friend again, after this. I say something about me having been more honest during these 13 days together than before, because back then, if I wanted a hug, I wouldn't have asked.
"I will love to give you one", or something like this, is what he replied. But I know I will never ask for a hug again. I am not sure we will be able to start again as friends, again, like we did before. Suddenly I feel angry and sad, why did he want to try and be together again if it wasn't what he was feeling, if things were going all right with us as just friends? Why mess the whole thing up like this?
He gives me a hug when we get up to go to the bus stop, but he decides he'll go for a walk, and he looks so upset, so so so upset. I am shaking, and it's not just the cold air. He caresses me, pinches my arm, says that if I want something I will have it.
It is then that I tell him, whispering in his ear, caressing his arm: "Ian...I wanted to be with you".
And my voice breaks; and the bus comes, and I think I wave goodbye, hurriedly, and I don't look at him again.
On the bus, I text some friends about it, the friends I had informed, happily, of the new chance I had been given to be happy with my piccolino, and of how scary and wonderful this was. Library friend calls straight away. My voice breaks while we talk, but less than I thought. I get home and take a hot shower, and feel numb.
Then, on Skype, Foxy friend appears, and we start chatting, and tears start flowing. I cry so much, and all I feel like doing is screaming and screaming.
I meet Ana in town, and I can only cry. I go back home after an hour, and cry on the bus.
Now, again, is the time for decisions.
When mum came to visit me, I thought I would leave, go back home, because there is no reason for me to stay. Ian looked almost scared, when I told him.
Ten days later we were back together.
Back in September, it had taken me more than a month to accept the fact that we were not going to be together anymore. And then more time to decide that with a good friend like him here, and a master to begin next year, and the nice house I live in, and a job I love, I have lots of good reasons to stay, even if I miss my mum, my house, and my friends sooooo much.
.....
Before going for the hot shower, once at home, I texted a long message to Ian. To make some things clear:
* I am not angry with him, I have never been, I will never be. How can I be angry with the person who made me so happy, even for such a short period of time, how can I be angry with someone who gave me a drop of love, and caressed me, hugged me with such intensity, kissed me (KISSED ME!) so beautifully? This heart is too full of love to feel any anger.
* He must NOT feel guilty. Why feel guilty for giving love and happiness to a lonely soul? This sweet, light drop of love is more than I could ever hope to receive, and I will always be grateful. No, piccolino, don't feel guilty.
* I don't want him to be with me, either as a friend or more, because he feels guilty, or thinks I need some sympathy. This is not the right ground for a friendship. So, be my friend because you want to.
* He must know that I was not thinking of our relationship as a prelude to a family, because I am 30, no, I was not investing all this love on such an ambitious plan. All I felt was that this was THE chance for both of us to be happy, together. Because, and I didn't tell him this, the electricity, the music I could feel when we were (are) together, is something I have never felt before, and I knew (know) this is a one-in-a-lifetime chance. Which has now gone.
Finally, I tell him that I am going to let him be alone for some days, no texts or anything from me. Wishing he will have a good time in Malta, where he's going next week, and remember that he can count on me, always.
Final hug.
Final "*I love you*".
Silence.
Oh, piccolino.
If you only knew, but I am sure he does, what great, incredible thing we were sharing. What treasure he has just thrown away.
Just spoke to mum. She doesn't know I have spent the past 13 days being back with Ian, she doesn't know that we have just broken up again. I thought it was no use telling her, I was right.
I am seriously, again, considering going back home, and by that I mean move back, with all my stuff.
Time for decisions again. I thought things could settle, and that we would work on this together, grow together, built this beautiful, sweet, important thing.
Love.
God.
Be with him now, don't leave him alone for a second.
Don't think about me, I can go on, somehow.
But my piccolino, so troubled, so upset, feeling guilty, stressed and unhappy.
Be with him, God.
Take his hand like I would do, and lull him to sleep, and give him nice sweet soothing dreams; whisper in his ear like I would do, make him smile. Lift him in your arms, make him feel safe. Ease his heavy heart, put his wonderful smile back on his beautiful, sweet, shy, lovely earnest face.
Make his sweet eyes shine again. Take away his worries.
Walk with him, holding his hand like I can't do anymore.
Hug him, squeeze him with all your strength, and tell him how much you love him, like I can't do anymore.
I think it's time to go.
He kissed me, held me, held my hand, squeezed me. He told me "I love you". On Wednesday, on my birthday, we talked of how he was changing his mind again, of how his plans included a relationship at about 30, after all his other stuff was completed, Phd and all, of how, being a Christian, dating somebody meant some sort of prelude to marriage. I had to tell him that if you don't risk, you cannot know what will happen.
"That's what my mum/dad said too".
Outside Costa he hugs me, and asks me why I picked such a complicated guy.
At the cinema, we have to wait, and we hug several times. He holds me, standing behind me, his arms around me, something I love so much. During the movie I cry and cry, because I know what is going on; later we go for something to eat, and I can't eat, I know what is going to happen soon. He cannot eat either, "I don't know what's wrong", he says.
Funny, some weeks ago, a week exactly before we went back together, I asked him if he was hungry, and he said "No", and I asked him what was wrong with him, and we laughed. Things were easy, then, and our friendship was so strong and innocent and light. Still, there were things I couldn't tell him, and things I couldn't do, like hugging him, touching him.
On the way back home I remind him that some things cannot be planned, and this is such a precious thing that it would be crazy to throw it away, and he agrees.
Outside my house we hugged and hugged, and he told me not to be scared, which is what I told him when he said that sometimes he was scared, he panicked, and I had to confess that I was scared 24 hours a day, although not for the same reason (I didn't tell him that). We hugged and kissed, and I whispered "I love you", and he said "I love you too".
"You don't have to say it, you know".
"I mean it", he said.
"And with the help of God, to be with us, to keep things in control, yes?". When he mentions God is a bad sign, I think then. If he is asking for God's help now it means that he cannot handle it alone, and I am not enough for him. Oh no, not again, I think, and I know that the end is near.
I go to bed, and am troubled, very troubled, but a part of me is smiling anyway, because of the kisses, of the squeezes, like last Thursday, because it seems that talking has worked, this time. That we can make it, somehow. How easily can I deceive myself again.
I didn't think I would see him on Thursday, yet he texted me, asking me if he could come over for tea, and he arrived, slightly tipsy after being for a drink with some phd students and his professor. We spent almost two hours, hugging on the sofa, holding hands, talking, kissing. He was so sweet, we laughed and hugged, repeatedly. For a moment, for a moment, I thought we could make it. Because this love, this caressing and hugging, this sweet kissing, this bending down to kiss my hair, my cheek, this looking for my hand to hold and squeeze, this moving his arm around me, and pull me close, so that I can lay my head on his chest, feel his heart beat, hold him back...This must mean something, I'm sure. To him. Unless he is still trying to fool himself into thinking...who knows.
When he texted me today, I knew something was wrong. Yet I said yes, let's meet in town, I'll be at the library.
He arrived, so extremely upset. He walked to the sofa where I was sitting, he rushed to the sofa, such a grim look on his face; he sat by my side, almost collapsed by my side, without touching me, and when I asked him if he was ok, he said no. You look upset, I said, and boy was he upset. "I am", he said, and I was shocked and upset too at once, I saw it coming again; a part of him died right then.
"I'm not happy -he said - I think we should break up".
And I cannot really remember what else we said: something about him feeling guilty, and deciding to ask me back. Something about him being disappointed for not being able to make this thing work out. Something about me needing to move on, find somebody who won't mess me up.
Something about me being the one who has to decide if we will see again, if we will be friends, because he cannot expect me to want him as a friend again, after this. I say something about me having been more honest during these 13 days together than before, because back then, if I wanted a hug, I wouldn't have asked.
"I will love to give you one", or something like this, is what he replied. But I know I will never ask for a hug again. I am not sure we will be able to start again as friends, again, like we did before. Suddenly I feel angry and sad, why did he want to try and be together again if it wasn't what he was feeling, if things were going all right with us as just friends? Why mess the whole thing up like this?
He gives me a hug when we get up to go to the bus stop, but he decides he'll go for a walk, and he looks so upset, so so so upset. I am shaking, and it's not just the cold air. He caresses me, pinches my arm, says that if I want something I will have it.
It is then that I tell him, whispering in his ear, caressing his arm: "Ian...I wanted to be with you".
And my voice breaks; and the bus comes, and I think I wave goodbye, hurriedly, and I don't look at him again.
On the bus, I text some friends about it, the friends I had informed, happily, of the new chance I had been given to be happy with my piccolino, and of how scary and wonderful this was. Library friend calls straight away. My voice breaks while we talk, but less than I thought. I get home and take a hot shower, and feel numb.
Then, on Skype, Foxy friend appears, and we start chatting, and tears start flowing. I cry so much, and all I feel like doing is screaming and screaming.
I meet Ana in town, and I can only cry. I go back home after an hour, and cry on the bus.
Now, again, is the time for decisions.
When mum came to visit me, I thought I would leave, go back home, because there is no reason for me to stay. Ian looked almost scared, when I told him.
Ten days later we were back together.
Back in September, it had taken me more than a month to accept the fact that we were not going to be together anymore. And then more time to decide that with a good friend like him here, and a master to begin next year, and the nice house I live in, and a job I love, I have lots of good reasons to stay, even if I miss my mum, my house, and my friends sooooo much.
.....
Before going for the hot shower, once at home, I texted a long message to Ian. To make some things clear:
* I am not angry with him, I have never been, I will never be. How can I be angry with the person who made me so happy, even for such a short period of time, how can I be angry with someone who gave me a drop of love, and caressed me, hugged me with such intensity, kissed me (KISSED ME!) so beautifully? This heart is too full of love to feel any anger.
* He must NOT feel guilty. Why feel guilty for giving love and happiness to a lonely soul? This sweet, light drop of love is more than I could ever hope to receive, and I will always be grateful. No, piccolino, don't feel guilty.
* I don't want him to be with me, either as a friend or more, because he feels guilty, or thinks I need some sympathy. This is not the right ground for a friendship. So, be my friend because you want to.
* He must know that I was not thinking of our relationship as a prelude to a family, because I am 30, no, I was not investing all this love on such an ambitious plan. All I felt was that this was THE chance for both of us to be happy, together. Because, and I didn't tell him this, the electricity, the music I could feel when we were (are) together, is something I have never felt before, and I knew (know) this is a one-in-a-lifetime chance. Which has now gone.
Finally, I tell him that I am going to let him be alone for some days, no texts or anything from me. Wishing he will have a good time in Malta, where he's going next week, and remember that he can count on me, always.
Final hug.
Final "*I love you*".
Silence.
Oh, piccolino.
If you only knew, but I am sure he does, what great, incredible thing we were sharing. What treasure he has just thrown away.
Just spoke to mum. She doesn't know I have spent the past 13 days being back with Ian, she doesn't know that we have just broken up again. I thought it was no use telling her, I was right.
I am seriously, again, considering going back home, and by that I mean move back, with all my stuff.
Time for decisions again. I thought things could settle, and that we would work on this together, grow together, built this beautiful, sweet, important thing.
Love.
God.
Be with him now, don't leave him alone for a second.
Don't think about me, I can go on, somehow.
But my piccolino, so troubled, so upset, feeling guilty, stressed and unhappy.
Be with him, God.
Take his hand like I would do, and lull him to sleep, and give him nice sweet soothing dreams; whisper in his ear like I would do, make him smile. Lift him in your arms, make him feel safe. Ease his heavy heart, put his wonderful smile back on his beautiful, sweet, shy, lovely earnest face.
Make his sweet eyes shine again. Take away his worries.
Walk with him, holding his hand like I can't do anymore.
Hug him, squeeze him with all your strength, and tell him how much you love him, like I can't do anymore.
I think it's time to go.
Labels: changes, Love, mind and heart, praying
posted by Peggy @ 6:32 PM
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