Hard

Sometimes I make some very dumb decisions. 

Recently my ex got in touch. Our break up happened over the same time as my first pleuritic collapse and I think I passed all my anxiety over my failing lungs and onto the breakup and, under that weight, my heart was crushed. I've fucked him a few times since the end of the relationship, usually in the vain hope that he'd realise what he was missing and that somehow, in some way, I would win. Ultimately he got laid and the deep-tissue bruises in my heart throbbed ruefully, as if my brain didn't know that I'd made a dumb decision without a physical cue from a metaphorical ailment. 

A few days ago he got in touch and asked if I wanted to "wreck a hotel room" with him. I turned him down. I felt a little stronger. My heart thumped like a war drum.

Last night I went 55 miles to meet a man I've been talking to on twitter for months. When I turned up I couldn't see him. Then some flabby, crooked-toothed bloke winked at me and approached me. 

Some people look better in pictures than in real life. 

I feel kind of disgusted with myself, on two counts. One for being so superficial. Two because I slept with him anyway. I feel like the air-punch rights I earned turning my ex down were all lost in one night with this man. All I could think about is how much I missed Galakse. We dated through two months of the summer only for him to say he couldn't handle his depression and seeing me. I miss him every single day. 

I don't know much. I mean, I have a brain full of facts and a tongue full of words and I can string them together like bunting on a ribbon but when it comes to the hurtful things, the secret things, I know nothing for sure. 

There's a band I love called The Weepies made up of a couple. Before they were together the woman released an album that I've been listening to on loop. It includes a song called How Will He Find Me? It sums up one of my greatest anxieties; to never have the kind of love we are conditioned to crave. I have some wonderful friends, and I am so glad of them, I swear. I'm not ungrateful. But even in the arms of a man who physically repulsed me I felt slightly comforted. I miss the skin on skin of affection. I feel so tortured inside. I'm so wounded. I'm working so hard to be beautiful, I'm striving at work to be valuable, I'm making so much effort to hold my family together and I am not handling all this pressure too well. 

I'm meant to be running with Eir today. I AM running with Eir today. Through the woods and through the rain. Maybe the rain will wash last night off my skin. Aching muscles are a good distraction for an aching heart. 

I miss Galakse so much. Fuck. 

If I don't stand out like a star among the moons

If I am always late and he always backs away too soon

I walk the world with a skin so thin

I can wear no adequate protection, everything comes crashing in. 

If I'm too wide open for this place

But too closed off for him to recognise my face...

How will he find me?

With noone's arms to gather me together

How will he find me?

Only held by gravity

Faded with uncertainty

No longer young and not that pretty

How will he ever find me?

It never seems to matter, the tears I cry

There's a well inside of me that never runs dry

From being born, I guess. And born in life until we die. 

The music and the hope for love keep me alive. 

Still I wonder, how will he find me?

And what shall I do with a drunken heart?

With goggle-eyes and the troubling hunger

Reaching forward to trick mirror-men 

Leaning out and in again

If love is a game how can it be creation? 

And if I'm wasting my time how will he find me?

I need to figure myself out before I get off this train.