DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry #185 - maktub • مكتوب

فيزا

At this point, I'm pretty sure I need no 911, I'm feeling hurt but at the same time oddly well and together... yet I would swear on my left hand, aka the hand I use to write, that I've got some raging Stockholm Syndrome. I mean, I wouldn't be able to describe my feelings, my body language and my attachment to the guy who did me so dirty last night in another manner, but with 'I'm captive, and the bond I have with my captor is actually giving me reasons to believe that being in here with him is hands down better than being out there, free and all on my own'. I know that I'm safe where I am now, sitting on the edge of the bed all hugged up with him. I know he ain't gonna hurt me again in the foreseeable future. Or at least it's hard to think he would, given that he's just told me the most beautiful, most heartfelt words, that I'm swooning for him, that he's swooning for me in his own way, and that our hands are still entwined like they're meant to fit into one another until the end of time. Or until the end of us, because at this point, we're finished, and there's no holding hands kinda thing sweet enough to change my mind.

'You're gonna make me cry'. I mumble, and with this I let him know that his speech of not so long ago, the one in which he showed me all of his vulnerabilities, his worries and his latent self consciousness, is making me want to cry. Out loud and like my whole life depends on it, because I feel for him a lot, and understand him better than I've ever understood anyone else in my life before. It's hard not to feel like I'd want to bawl my eyes out and cry, now that he's just told me I'm the only one who makes him feel like he's got a real life outside of the daily grind. It's even harder to head to the door and leave, now that he's basically told me I'm his only hope to stay afloat in this rock n roll 'bubble' that takes everything away from him for months in a row at a time. Leaving him here would amount to abandoning him to the demons that he wants to stay away from. It would mean giving up on the most genuine person I've ever met in my life, the kind that never hesitates to show me that he can be vulnerable too, when needed. It would mean losing the love of my life with no way to get him back later. And to him, it would mean losing his favourite road wife. His only road wife, for as much as I know at least.

Do I really want to give him that heartache? Do I want to live the next few days of my life crying because I know that he's lowkey hurting over my departure? He's already hurt for what he did to me last night, and he's proved his sorrow a dozen times within just minutes... so, am I sure I want to double his hurt and leave him when he'd just want a kiss n' makeup from me? And then just pick up our romance from where we left it hanging last night, and keep being eachother's anchor in this world full of shit? We don't need eachother, we are our own people, we have a life outside of our romance, and I want it to be clear. But after a month spent being on his trail, I feel safe to say that there's no better feeling than living my regular life, and then coming back to him, my love and my home, having hugs and kisses with him, and spending the rest of my any day being his hip parasite. I'm sure it's about the same for him... so why can't I just put the pride and the hurt aside, and let us love eachother like we used to until yesterday evening? I'm sure we'd still have so much to give to eachother... it's just that I'm too afraid some of our together time in the future may entail crap like last night's.

He'd deserve a fucking apology. He's given me reasons to see that he's genuine, sorrowed, serious about me, hellbent in the best possible way, and full of good intentions. He's once again allowed me to see his most sensitive, most vulnerable side. I wish I could find the guts to rub his face, kiss him, put a stone well over the chaos of last night and move on from that ... but I can't. The pain is still there in my chest, alive and vivid. The images of what happened between us when he was at his lowest and I was a punch bag to him are well engrained in my memory, and I can't seem to rub 'em off to save my life. And speaking of rubbing, the more he rubs my hand and kisses the corner of my mouth like it's totally natural for him, the more I remember the disrespect, and the more I want to cry and distance myself from him. The more he rubs his thumb against the three rows of expensive as fuck pearls of the ring that he gifted me out of his own, sudden initiative, the more I want to take it off, lay it on the bedside table, head to the door and tell him that if he feels like he can handle it, he can keep the necklace that he's wearing now. But I'm captive, I'm all over the place, I'm like frozen in body and in spirit, and all I can do right now is whine under my breath... and let him keep me here on the bed with him. Once again, postponing the part in which I get real with him, and tell him he just gotta leave me the fuck alone and let me do what I believe is good for me. Or does it work like that only when he's the main character?