I wrote this when i was down about the break up with my ex – the inspiration to start writing a blog. This piece is called ‘more thoughts about him’. But when i read it back, it sounds a little like a self evaluation. It’s about making a home in myself instead of other people around me. And I’m doing a pretty good job. Take a look
Every time i think about things we told each other, i smile. Then my stomach hurts. And then i look sad. Mourning. Tired.
Not every day is a bad day, but i have more bad days than good days.
I ask myself often; how long will it take me this time to get over someone i was close to? It’s taking me very long, and i’m not used to saying I’m used to it.
He’s probably getting over me. He’s probably trying to fix himself, and whenever he’s done with that, he might look for another. In that breakup text, his first sentence was ‘i have been thinking for a while, i think its better if we both walk our own path.’ after a couple of sentences filled with excuses he said ‘my path is different from yours.’ which says, in other words, forget about me. He probably has other thoughts or plans. Maybe i changed his thoughts about marriage, and maybe even about love. Maybe he just doesn’t think we fit, even though he clearly said we do. Either way, i really have to forget him and all those maybes. Because.. He’s not coming back.
This is hard, but not impossible. I must make a home in myself.
I sometimes feel like a towel; a comforting friend to dry people whenever they are wet. I’m helpful, I’m soft and I’m always available. But whenever people are done with me, they get rid of me. And it’s okay to comfort people. The thing is that a towel doesn’t get love and affection back whenever those people are done. That’s just what it might feel like. I’m being thrown in the washing machine so i can get wet myself, but no one is there to dry me except for the cold, blowing wind or air.
Maybe I’m not like a towel. I might be a hiring apartment. People get to live in my heart for a while until they are warmed up enough to carry on with their lifes and forget all about me. And I’m stuck with memories and warmth that’s slowly escaping from a forgotten open door, broken windows and holes in the walls.
I need to make a home in myself. People tend to leave whenever i make a home in them too. No matter what kind of person i have invested myself in. A friend, a sister, a soulmate, a significant other. Whenever they leave, i am homeless.
Perhaps i just need to grow. Perhaps i just need to keep more things to myself, go out by myself, enjoy myself more. I need to value myself, even though i already do. Maybe i need to have my own thoughts and opinions and ideas. And maybe i shouldn’t share them with anyone.