I have been meaning to write this for long time. For privacy reasons I won’t violate you by adding your name in this article but you will know simply by the story. One day I meet a woman. She was broken. Falling apart in most terrible way I had ever seen. She stormed in a Facebook group and openinly went on to speak of her cheating husband who had left her for another woman. I could feel her pain immediately. Each word she wrote behind her computer screen held resent, pain and betrayal from the very person she once loved and trusted. Its part of life happens to all of us. I knew this woman needed a friend. She needed someone to make her realize that all betrayals are not the worse. At times, these painful moments are our own breakthroughs in life. She was a mother of two young adorable children and what is there more important than offering calming friendship to a mother who must be strong to raise her kids properly?! After a bit of talking we meet each other in person. I liked the experience. I knew that deep down she was a good woman but life changed her. She had became bitter. She became intolerable by default. She had managed to put a victim face around here while she was not always victimized. There had been so much abuse in her life. Her father first. Her family always putting her down. Her husband. So yes, she was nothing but a result of physical, sexual and verbal abuse. The sad part is that she only knew how to accept abuse. It had become part of her character. The pathway to her own heart had been over shadowed by the actions of others imposed on her. She has lost herself. Years of therapy. Years of abuse. Yet she was just a wrecking ball. We grew very close for a period of time. Until her paranoia hit her like a storm. After sharing the worse moments in one’s life, one day she disappeared. And it is OK do that because some friendships happen because they have to and they don’t have to be forever. let it go of her because I understood that it was what she wanted. A year or so after she appeared out of now where not to me but to strangers with stories that I found insulting. Here is what I want to tell you lady: FIRST OF ALL, YOU CONFIDED IN ME (because I made it easy for you) HORROR STORIES THAT HAPPEN IN YOUR LIFE AND NEVER ONCE I REPEATED THEM TO STRANGERS BECAUSE I AM A WOMAN AND I HONOR MY WORD. YOU ARE NOT!!!! SECOND, YOU CAME INTO MY LIFE BROKEN AND RIDICULOUS. YOU HAD NO DESIRE TO LIVE. YOU WERE FULL OF ANGER. YOU WERE A HYSTERICAL MOM WHO STRUGGLED IN FINDING WAYS TO DEAL WITH YOUR ADORABLE KIDS BEHAVIOR. YOUR KIDS STRUGGLED JUST AS MUCH. I TOOK YOU ALL IN…HAVING YOU OVER FOR DINNERS. HAVING YOU OVER FOR HOLIDAYS. I SHARED MY LIVING SPACE WITH YOUR FAMILY WHILE I NEVER VISITED YOUR HOME. I SAW SPARKLES OF HAPPINESS IN YOUR DAUGHTER AND SON EYES. I TAUGHT YOU HOW TO GO ON LIVING. HOW TO STOP BEING ANGRY AND ACCEPT THAT YOU ARE BETTER OFF. I TAUGHT YOU HOW TO LAUGH AND ENJOY LIFE AGAIN. MOST IMPORTANTLY, UNDER YOUR ‘NICE OR VICTIM’ FACE YOU PUT ON FOR THE WORLD, I KNOW YOUR TRUE FACE. I AM PROBABLY THE ONLY PERSON ON EARTH WHO DOES, DO NOT FORGET THAT. YOUR HUSBAND LEFT YOU, NOT BECAUSE YOU WERE NOT BEAUTIFUL ENOUGH. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. HE LEFT ME YOU BECAUSE HE SAW THAT YOU HELD NO INSPIRATION FOR HIM. YOUR SUPERFICIAL CAPACITY CAN BORE A SAINT TO DEATH. I DON’T WANT TO SIT HERE AND TAKE ALL CREDIT BECAUSE TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE YOU HELPED ME OUT IN MANY WAYS AS WELL. I NEVER WILL FORGET THAT. YOU MIGHT WANT TO GO AHEAD AND GIVE SOME CREDIT TO YOUR FAMILY... JUST KEEP IN MIND IT IS THE SAME FAMILY THAT ABUSED YOU. THE SAME FATHER THAT MOLESTED YOU. THE SAME SISTER THAT CALLED YOU A WHORE EVERY SINGLE CHANCE SHE GOT. THAT SAME FAMILY YOU BRING YOU KIDS TO VISIT EVERY WEEKEND EXPOSING YOUR TEEN DAUGHTER TO POTENTIAL MOLESTING SITUATION ONLY BECAUSE YOU ARE IGNORANT AND WEAK ENOUGH TO NEED THE ARMS OF THOSE WHO ABUSE YOU! YOUR DAUGHTER SHOULD NOT PAY THE PRICE FOR YOUR WEAKNESSES. SHE IS A GEM. SHE IS PURE. SHE IS AN ANGEL. GOODBYE FOR NOW... YOU HAD A CHANCE TO DO THIS LIKE A REAL WOMAN (expressing your concerns or doubts) BUT YOU CHOSE TO HIDE, BECAUSE OF COURSE YOU NEVER HAD BALLS TO STAND UP FOR ANYTHING IN LIFE. SO YOU CAN READ IT ON THE INTERNET AND REMEMBER… OUR PATHS WILL CROSS AGAIN SOON BUT KEEP MY NAME OUT OF YOUR ABUSED MOUTH. I BEEN YOUR TORCH FOR A LONG TIME…LEARN HOW TO UNDERSTAND THAT IS PRICELESS. FEBRUARY 8. 2017
0 Comments
SUBMITTED BY: MILTON FOSTER - CHARLIE CHAPLINWhen I started Loving myself I’ve understood that I’m always and at any given opportunity in the right place at the right time. And I’ve understood that all that happens is right – from then on I could be calm. Today I know: It’s called TRUST. When I started to Love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody When I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this person was me. Today I know: It’s called RESPECT. When I started loving myself I could recognize that emotional pain and grief are just warnings for me to not live against my own truth. Today I know: It’s called AUTHENTICALLY BEING. When I started loving myself I have stopped longing for another life and could see that everything around me was a request to grow. Today I know: It’s called MATURITY. When I started loving myself I’ve stopped depriving myself of my free time and I’ve stopped sketching further magnificent projects for the future. Today I only do what’s fun and joy for me, what I love and what makes my heart laugh, in my own way and in my tempo. Today I know: it’s called HONESTY. When I started loving myself I’ve escaped from all what wasn’t healthy for me, from dishes, people, things, situations and from everyhting pulling me down and away from myself. In the beginning I called it the “healthy egoism”, but today I know: it’s called SELF-LOVE. When I started loving myself I’ve stopped wanting to be always right thus I’ve been less wrong. Today I’ve recognized: it’s called HUMBLENESS. When I started loving myself I’ve refused to live further in the past and to worry about my future. Now I live only at this moment where EVERYTHING takes place, like this I live every day and I call it CONSCIOUSNESS. When I started loving myself I recognized, that my thinking can make me miserable and sick. When I though requested for my heart forces, my mind got an important partner. I call this connection today HEART WISDOM. We do not need to fear further discussions, conflicts and problems with ourselves and others since even stars sometimes bang on each other and create new worlds. Today I know: THIS IS THIS LIFE ! AUTHOR: LAURA LIVIA GREGOREI remember the first time I met him. We were both standing next to a bar. It was dark and crowded and our eyes met. I recognized the look in his eyes because it was in my eyes also. Something passionate and dark. A sort of an attraction to purity. No mid tones. Either this way or that way. A reckless approach to life we all must have had at least once, especially in our early youth. He bought me a drink and starting from that point, life was not the same anymore. Love transforms us, the deeper the love, the deeper the transformation. I remember all the times we met and that particular night when we met next to the theatre. It was slightly raining and we walked together, my arm holding his arm and him holding the umbrella. Our footsteps echoing in the same rhythm on the empty streets. I remember his sensitivity, his intelligence and that destructive power we shared: passion. I remember our talks and their intensity, how we could have done anything together, except for one thing: bow down in front of convenience. And now years passed. I talk to him and he says: my wife, my child, my unhappiness. I took a normal path in life. I still love you. And my heart squeezes a bit. I remember his father, me eating biscuits with him for breakfast after a sleepless night. Him telling me all over again that my eyes remind him of Catherine Deneuve and that I should not bow down in front of life. You are stronger then this coward that is my son, he says. We laugh and eat another biscuit. Two generations of bohemians sitting in the same kitchen. And now he says: I have a son. I still love you. I remember the day when we drank cheap cognac in a bar next to the train station and me carrying a constant fear in my chest. I was very close to disintegration once, this is why I can endure many things now. I remember a certain morning. The window was open and I could hear the birds. I always liked to wait for the dawn. For those birds only. He caressed my arms for hours and maybe then he understood that what I need is tenderness, not passion. I wonder if it was the last time I saw him. My memory became foggy. There are people who will always think you remained at the age they last saw you. I am 28 now. And I tell him: there are times when I feel alone, but it’s better like this, I have freedom. I might end up an old lady with many cats, but I like cats anyway and I did too many compromises in life, I am doing none. He says: go on living your legend. But don’t get married, when you will be old and tired of too many experiences, I will ask you to marry me. My heart squeezes, I think about his father and his son and my passionate way of being. All I could say is this: I do care for you and always will, but if my passion burnt down, I do not come back. Think about here and now, it’s everything that matters. I trust my destiny and life made us meet again so that I could tell you this: I found light and I have hope. And if you look inside yourself, you might find it also. All the men in my life ended up coming back to me at some point, but what surprises me and saddens me at the same time is that they all ended up coming back too late. My artwork is orientated on emotions. Writing about how I feel is a feminine approach to understanding life. But we all have feelings, don’t we? I am sure there are many women out there resonating with my words, but reading my stories might be intresting for men as well in order to get an insight of the way women psychology works. I have never been a feminist, I believe men and women should be equal in rights and opportunities, but we are fundamentally different in the way we behave or react. We are not supposed to lead wars against each other, but to complete each other. My artwork is feminine, not feminist. This is a story about men who came back too late because they did not understand how a woman’s heart work. There are ten thousand ways to fight bitterness and ten thousand ways to avoid resentment and frustration, but then, there are words that should reach the person they are meant for. It might come easy to withdraw inside oneself and get covered in numerous protective layers of dignity. If your ego bleeds and you won’t let your wounds speak, you will eventually drawn. All the unspoken words are like arrows that come back to us and sting our hearts. It is human to feel hurt and it is human as well to speak about this. Broken communication leads to a broken heart. A broken heart can be healed ofcourse, the heart is a delicate mechanism, I think about those anatomical diagrams, red coming in and blue coming out. Blue because the blood comes out carrying oxygen and we all know that life is about breathing. I believe all the illnesses are a consequence of unbalance and that includes of course, heartaches. Where were you when I needed you? What were you doing all the times when I called for you and my voice echoed in the desert? And why do men always think that when they decide to come back, they find the same person they abandoned? Imagine you are looking at a tree, at all the beautiful ochre shades of its autumn leaves. And then imagine you turn away your look for a little while and when your eyes come back to look at the tree, there is nothing there anymore. Meanwhile, the wood of the tree transformed into a book. And everything that was there for you to see, will just belong to the memory from now on. Our memory is a space so translucent and feathery. But still so vivid because all the things that existed at some point go on existening in that other life we could have lived, but we didn’t. All the waiting in vain in those times when my heart was still open. All the questions, the doubts, the loneliness. The hope. If you do love me, why don’t you tell me? Because otherwise I will just end believing that you really don’t. As long as you still have the capacity to trigger an emotion inside me, there is the possibility that I might come back to a love affair that belongs to the past. But if you decide to come back after I already managed to put structure inside my emotions, it might be too late. I make my decisions based on how a certain situation would make me feel and that is what makes us, men and women be different. If the day when you decide to come back, the only emotion I have left is the potentional feeling of unease, as if going back to the past would be just an extra weight put around my neck, given all the emotions I passed through during your absence, be sure I will not come back. It would not be revange or cruelty, but just the realisation of the fact that life can go on without you in the same way it already did. I broke up with my ex-boyfriend when I was truly convinced there was nothing left there, when I realised the balance will always be inclided towards sadness and frustration with him. It was when I understood I do not deserve all that unhappiness that I was able to step away telling myself: I tried enough, may life be kind to me from now on. After some time, he tried to reach me again. He said we should get back together because we will never manage to know someone else as well as we knew each other. He claimed he regretted everything, but I could not forget the bruises on my wrists and on my heart. When I told him to fuck off for the last time, it was the night when he sent me a poem about dreams of murder. He said what’s the matter dear, don’t you know E.E. Cummings? And then I knew: I was afraid, I feared him as I feared myself, I wish I never wasted my years, hiding from him in the same room. The night when I told him to fuck off for the last time, I have been having wine and smoking, floating for a few days, as if living inside a poetry about dreams of killing time. I said what’s the matter dear, don’t you know myself, I always mean when I say something. I used to be afraid, but I am not anymore. The night when I told him to fuck off for the last time, he said I’m sorry and I said I don’t care, I met someone. He called me cruel. And I don’t even like poems about dreams of murder. AUTHOR: AMARI SOULTo be single and feel lonely is understandable, but to be in a relationship and feel lonely...that’s unacceptable. When you are single, missing the companionship and interaction with someone you love and care about is normal. However, when you are in a relationship and still feel the same loneliness as you did when you were single, that’s not normal. You have to ask yourself the following question, 'Why am I even wasting my time in this relationship?' It’s possible that he may have simply gotten caught up in his day to day tasks and he may not even realize that he’s caused you to feel the way you do. My advice would be for you to talk to him about how you feel and give him the opportunity to make the necessary changes. SUBMITTED BY: DIANA OZORIASince the beginning of human history we’ve tried to make sense of our existence. We’ve looked up at the sun and praised it. We philosophized about soul mates and the concept of time. Today, we have these same questions, why are we here, who am I. But unlike our ancestors, we are never alone with our minds to be able to formulate our own answers to these existential questions. Instead, those in power understand human psychology, so they dig the identity question into a deeper hole, only to provide their own solutions. They overstimulate us with instructions on who to be, how to feel and what to buy. We are bombarded and overwhelmed with a surplus of useless information to keep our minds distracted, always jumping from topic to topic, never fully listening to ourselves, never differentiating between what they want you to do vs what you really want to do, what they tell you to believe vs what you truly feel. Not realizing all the things we spend energy on are truly irrelevant to our existence. Like a drug, once we receive what we were conditioned to believe we wanted and we use it and we come down from the high of it. We sink back into the depression, the void aching more, because it really wasn’t what your soul needed. So we search for the answer to a question we never asked our soul to begin with. We are psychologically and emotionally exploited servants. We are conditioned to be miserable because misery is profitable. It is all we’ve ever known. We’ve developed a twisted Stockholm syndrome relationship with it. We love music that makes us hurt, we fill our bodies with poison every weekend to forget that we don’t know where we’re going or who we are, we spend all of our money on clothing and shoes then scrape for food, we keep toxic people in our lives because toxicity is considered normal, we chase people who don’t care for us, and reject people who love us, we burn bridges with our parents to please temporary people, we settle for unfulfilling jobs so long as it pays because we are addicts who will do anything, sell our souls to supply an endless need to feel anything, anything but this misery. And when we do feel joy, we have this anxiety that it is temporary, and so we leave before it leaves us because we think we are protecting ourselves, because we think any other state of existence is impossible, because we believe we don’t deserve it so we run back to our addiction, back to our misery, never once consulting with our soul. But that’s where all the answers are if we just asked. Still, we’re taught to be afraid of solitude, because those at the top know the power that lies in a person who knows themselves. The capitalist machine cannot afford you to know yourself, that’s why they invest so much in keeping you away from yourself. Know yourself. That is the most revolutionary thing you can do. |
AuthorAuthors of each story shared reserves the right to their name exposure, pen name or simply be anonymous. ArchivesCategories |