Paula
I was mesmerised by her almost clear green eyes and porcelain skin.
She was weightless, adorned in black would almost never smile.
I fell in love with her sarcastic, outlandish personality.
And I loved her. I loved her in my own unique way. I showered her with attention, gifts and my own brand of affection. I wanted to control her, make her entirely mine. She wasn't an equal partner, but someone I wanted to tame.I wanted to marry her. I wanted to make her my wife. I think I really did love her. In the years that have passed my love has become something of an all-consuming flame. It's completely different than the love I possessed years back. It's not just that I'm a different person, it's because I've found someone who truly makes me feel alive, makes me better in ways that I never dreamt and has a calming, gentleness to his fiery passion. And the more that I think about it, I'm not sure that it was ever really love that I felt for her. It was more of a need to have her, confusing a physical attraction for an emotional one. I now realise that I never had a real emotional attraction to her, nor have I ever really until this boy. I have a deep yearning to bond with him, not possess him.
I spoke with her every day, almost all day. The hours became days, the days becoming months and the months turned into a year, despite it feeling like no time ever passed at all. Both of us ageing, maturing. We could speak about whatever what was on our minds, and often times I did, holding very few secrets behind the walls of my lips and eyes. I was intoxicated as my fingers moved across the keyboard to tell her about my day, to ask her about hers, to share a story or to ask her about her art. I enjoyed the friendship until one day I realised that I didn't want to be her friend. I wanted to never have her be by another's side, I wanted her by my side. I wasn't threatened when she told me about Ian and another bloke that she was interested in; After all, she spent almost all her time talking to me. She chose me over them. Or did she really? I never thought of her life outside what she showed me because I believed she shared so much with me. I didn't feel the need to ask about everything. I figured she would tell me if she wanted me to know or if I needed to know. And even that was a lie. I didn't find this out until much later after she told me I was a freak and cut off all contact with me. This was the first time I'd felt any real emotional pain. She'd told me "I love you" several times before I actually said it back to her. It became more frequent. I believed in her words. I'd spent thousands on gifts for her. Birthday, Christmas, Easter, or when I saw something that reminded me of her or something she enjoyed. One thing sticks out more than any other; the present that I gave her for her 24th birthday. I'd worked and saved for months to be able to get her a diamond and amethyst heart-shaped pendant on 18-carat gold chain. It was her favourite two stones and I wanted her to know just how special she was to me. I returned saying "I loved you" every night to her, but I wanted to show it to her. I felt that words just weren't enough. I'm a man of action.
I knew she'd want something else, so I'd packaged up a few sweets with the necklace and sent it to her. I emailed her and told her that I'd popped something special in the post and I couldn't wait for her to get it and that I hope she liked it. I waited for about a week on pins and needles waiting for a response from her. On day 6 she emailed me back. "I got your present! I love you!!" She seemed so happy and I thought it was the necklace and the sweets or that I even cared enough to make a gesture. It wasn't until she ended the friendship or fake relationship as I believed it to be, I honestly thought she was with me the last year of whatever it was we had, that small thing started to come back to me. I just made excuses at the time; I didn't want to see where things were shit. She'd never given me a birthday present or even a Christmas card. She told me that money was tight and I understood that, but not even a handmade thing? No real show of affection? I don't even remember her saying 'Happy Christmas' to me. It really sunk in that it was just a joke to her.
Me realising that she was never serious with me, her love you was empty and void just like I'd been before I realised what I felt for her wasn't the lowest blow of the entire experience. She told me that she trusted me. Her trust was nothing short of a lie as well. I found out later that the address she gave me was that of a local funeral home where her mate worked. Her mate would collect the things I'd sent her and give them to her when she saw her. And even that wasn't the lowest part of it all. I found out that the necklace and other little jewellery gifts that I'd sent her or anything of value, like the band autographs that nearly killed me to get, were sold either online or at a pawn shop. She knew what I had to go through to get some of those presents for her; what I sacrificed. She knew just how much I went without so she could have, so I could make her happy. Talking to her did make me happy and I don't mean to sound like a greedy cunt here but a small token, anything in return would have been nice. I guess I was just fucking stupid. Hearing that sent me into orbit and I punched a hole in the wall. Why the fuck would she do this to me? I couldn't fathom it. If someone wanted a friendship with me and I enjoyed their company, I'd not behave in such a fashion. Maybe because despite my flaws, I do have some level of class. When I heard this I was struck with relief that I'd kept the most important things to myself. I'd not given this broad all of me. I trusted my instincts on it. I knew what to hold close to me. When she blocked me after I lost it and told her that I didn't want to live without her and that I hope she's happy with what she's done, I felt an agony that I didn't know existed. For me, it wasn't just a loss of rejection, loss of someone who I wanted in my life, but a loss of control. The illusion of control was shattered for me and it changed me; it hardened me and it became a primary focus really. It no longer was the passenger, it was the driver.
I don't know why she's come back into my thoughts now. I've not spoken to her since that night over 5 years ago. I still don't know what I did wrong. Was I too intense? Was I too devoted? Was I just too disgusting for words? I know I torture myself with these questions because I'll never be able to answer them. I don't even know what happened to her after that. I'm guessing she's still alive, wounding and destroying other lives in her city. The same questions, possibly even more burning questions came later but from Phil. Maybe I'll do a blog on him at some time. Fuck, it took me years to write this one, it might just be another couple of years before the Phil story comes out.
I fell in love with her sarcastic, outlandish personality.
And I loved her. I loved her in my own unique way. I showered her with attention, gifts and my own brand of affection. I wanted to control her, make her entirely mine. She wasn't an equal partner, but someone I wanted to tame.I wanted to marry her. I wanted to make her my wife. I think I really did love her. In the years that have passed my love has become something of an all-consuming flame. It's completely different than the love I possessed years back. It's not just that I'm a different person, it's because I've found someone who truly makes me feel alive, makes me better in ways that I never dreamt and has a calming, gentleness to his fiery passion. And the more that I think about it, I'm not sure that it was ever really love that I felt for her. It was more of a need to have her, confusing a physical attraction for an emotional one. I now realise that I never had a real emotional attraction to her, nor have I ever really until this boy. I have a deep yearning to bond with him, not possess him.
I spoke with her every day, almost all day. The hours became days, the days becoming months and the months turned into a year, despite it feeling like no time ever passed at all. Both of us ageing, maturing. We could speak about whatever what was on our minds, and often times I did, holding very few secrets behind the walls of my lips and eyes. I was intoxicated as my fingers moved across the keyboard to tell her about my day, to ask her about hers, to share a story or to ask her about her art. I enjoyed the friendship until one day I realised that I didn't want to be her friend. I wanted to never have her be by another's side, I wanted her by my side. I wasn't threatened when she told me about Ian and another bloke that she was interested in; After all, she spent almost all her time talking to me. She chose me over them. Or did she really? I never thought of her life outside what she showed me because I believed she shared so much with me. I didn't feel the need to ask about everything. I figured she would tell me if she wanted me to know or if I needed to know. And even that was a lie. I didn't find this out until much later after she told me I was a freak and cut off all contact with me. This was the first time I'd felt any real emotional pain. She'd told me "I love you" several times before I actually said it back to her. It became more frequent. I believed in her words. I'd spent thousands on gifts for her. Birthday, Christmas, Easter, or when I saw something that reminded me of her or something she enjoyed. One thing sticks out more than any other; the present that I gave her for her 24th birthday. I'd worked and saved for months to be able to get her a diamond and amethyst heart-shaped pendant on 18-carat gold chain. It was her favourite two stones and I wanted her to know just how special she was to me. I returned saying "I loved you" every night to her, but I wanted to show it to her. I felt that words just weren't enough. I'm a man of action.
I knew she'd want something else, so I'd packaged up a few sweets with the necklace and sent it to her. I emailed her and told her that I'd popped something special in the post and I couldn't wait for her to get it and that I hope she liked it. I waited for about a week on pins and needles waiting for a response from her. On day 6 she emailed me back. "I got your present! I love you!!" She seemed so happy and I thought it was the necklace and the sweets or that I even cared enough to make a gesture. It wasn't until she ended the friendship or fake relationship as I believed it to be, I honestly thought she was with me the last year of whatever it was we had, that small thing started to come back to me. I just made excuses at the time; I didn't want to see where things were shit. She'd never given me a birthday present or even a Christmas card. She told me that money was tight and I understood that, but not even a handmade thing? No real show of affection? I don't even remember her saying 'Happy Christmas' to me. It really sunk in that it was just a joke to her.
Me realising that she was never serious with me, her love you was empty and void just like I'd been before I realised what I felt for her wasn't the lowest blow of the entire experience. She told me that she trusted me. Her trust was nothing short of a lie as well. I found out later that the address she gave me was that of a local funeral home where her mate worked. Her mate would collect the things I'd sent her and give them to her when she saw her. And even that wasn't the lowest part of it all. I found out that the necklace and other little jewellery gifts that I'd sent her or anything of value, like the band autographs that nearly killed me to get, were sold either online or at a pawn shop. She knew what I had to go through to get some of those presents for her; what I sacrificed. She knew just how much I went without so she could have, so I could make her happy. Talking to her did make me happy and I don't mean to sound like a greedy cunt here but a small token, anything in return would have been nice. I guess I was just fucking stupid. Hearing that sent me into orbit and I punched a hole in the wall. Why the fuck would she do this to me? I couldn't fathom it. If someone wanted a friendship with me and I enjoyed their company, I'd not behave in such a fashion. Maybe because despite my flaws, I do have some level of class. When I heard this I was struck with relief that I'd kept the most important things to myself. I'd not given this broad all of me. I trusted my instincts on it. I knew what to hold close to me. When she blocked me after I lost it and told her that I didn't want to live without her and that I hope she's happy with what she's done, I felt an agony that I didn't know existed. For me, it wasn't just a loss of rejection, loss of someone who I wanted in my life, but a loss of control. The illusion of control was shattered for me and it changed me; it hardened me and it became a primary focus really. It no longer was the passenger, it was the driver.
I don't know why she's come back into my thoughts now. I've not spoken to her since that night over 5 years ago. I still don't know what I did wrong. Was I too intense? Was I too devoted? Was I just too disgusting for words? I know I torture myself with these questions because I'll never be able to answer them. I don't even know what happened to her after that. I'm guessing she's still alive, wounding and destroying other lives in her city. The same questions, possibly even more burning questions came later but from Phil. Maybe I'll do a blog on him at some time. Fuck, it took me years to write this one, it might just be another couple of years before the Phil story comes out.
It could be because I'm so serious about this new person, this man that has unlocked such a world of passion and experience for me. He gave me the blessing to be myself, no the courage to be myself. He's given me the keys to start to understand friendships and relationships. He's allowed me to be open and more honest. There are those who fail to believe this, are hateful, spiteful and jealous of him. I've been doing a lot of thinking about this lately. He truly is the most beautiful soul I've ever encountered during my 26 years and numerous travels across the world. He can moan all that he wants and joke that he doesn't have a soul, but he does and it's warm and the colour of rich caramel. I can only hope that one day he can see through the haze of his sorrows and see just how truly unique, valuable and loved he is.
In the end, I got my heart broken my a she-devil and it left me spinning. I only can imagine what's going to happen if something happens this time. Fuck.
LINKS
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/anjathesickboy/
Twitter:https://twitter.com/darkdreamingdan
Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/darkdreamingdaniel/
The first instalment of Delectables with Dan's Dickmas is now up on here if you want to check that out! There will be more to follow on this series as we draw closer to Christmas.
Delectables with Dan Series
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/dandelectables/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DanDelectables
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dandelectables/
In the end, I got my heart broken my a she-devil and it left me spinning. I only can imagine what's going to happen if something happens this time. Fuck.
LINKS
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/anjathesickboy/
Twitter:https://twitter.com/darkdreamingdan
Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/darkdreamingdaniel/
The first instalment of Delectables with Dan's Dickmas is now up on here if you want to check that out! There will be more to follow on this series as we draw closer to Christmas.
Delectables with Dan Series
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/dandelectables/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DanDelectables
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dandelectables/
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