delora
Lola (she/her)
- Jun 5, 2023
- 55
I woke up thinking about dying in my sleep.
Upon reaching for a morning hug, my partner's hands would find a cold body. It'd shock him, of course, but the blow of a natural death is inevitably softer. There's no guilt attached to it, nothing he could have done. Such is life. His family and friends would immediately provide a supportive environment for his grief. He knows I've never cared for ceremonies, but maybe there'd be a small memorial gathering for his own sake. He would say beautiful things about me that aren't necessarily true — and yet, at the same time, he would not be lying for a second. Perspective is a curious thing.
But most importantly, he would eventually carry on and be happier. He is a fantastic person and worthy of so much more than I've ever been able to give. I often notice that I am failing to put forth the dedication this relationship deserves. I love him to pieces, I do. But at times, I am so disconnected from everything. I'm constantly exhausted and can't match the effort he puts into us. I get lost within myself.
Still, he showers me with nothing but endless love and patience. I struggle to understand why. I don't bring anything to the table, and as much as I believe his feelings are genuine, I have trouble comprehending how this could've happened. How come this intelligent, sensible, and overall incredible man could have taken a liking to me? I recognize how lucky I am to be in this position, which adds to the pain of being insufficient.
I've never been afraid of dying, but I am now afraid of hurting him. So I stay. And staying in this world for someone else is conflicting, especially while feeling like you don't deserve the hand you've been given. My mind wanders a lot, falling back on fantasies of a death that would be easy on the one I love. There's also the torturous awareness that I'm not supposed to feel like this. I have something many people spend their lives dreaming of, and this is how I receive it? He does so much for my happiness and comfort, why is it still not enough to transform me? We hear so much about how love might heal and change one's mental health, but here I am. Still grappling with many of the same demons on a daily basis. At this point, I've accepted I'm beyond repair.
Ah. There's no real point to this, just letting my brain pour some thoughts that probably couldn't be shared anywhere else.
So if you've even taken the time to read, thank you. Guess I'll be around.
Upon reaching for a morning hug, my partner's hands would find a cold body. It'd shock him, of course, but the blow of a natural death is inevitably softer. There's no guilt attached to it, nothing he could have done. Such is life. His family and friends would immediately provide a supportive environment for his grief. He knows I've never cared for ceremonies, but maybe there'd be a small memorial gathering for his own sake. He would say beautiful things about me that aren't necessarily true — and yet, at the same time, he would not be lying for a second. Perspective is a curious thing.
But most importantly, he would eventually carry on and be happier. He is a fantastic person and worthy of so much more than I've ever been able to give. I often notice that I am failing to put forth the dedication this relationship deserves. I love him to pieces, I do. But at times, I am so disconnected from everything. I'm constantly exhausted and can't match the effort he puts into us. I get lost within myself.
Still, he showers me with nothing but endless love and patience. I struggle to understand why. I don't bring anything to the table, and as much as I believe his feelings are genuine, I have trouble comprehending how this could've happened. How come this intelligent, sensible, and overall incredible man could have taken a liking to me? I recognize how lucky I am to be in this position, which adds to the pain of being insufficient.
I've never been afraid of dying, but I am now afraid of hurting him. So I stay. And staying in this world for someone else is conflicting, especially while feeling like you don't deserve the hand you've been given. My mind wanders a lot, falling back on fantasies of a death that would be easy on the one I love. There's also the torturous awareness that I'm not supposed to feel like this. I have something many people spend their lives dreaming of, and this is how I receive it? He does so much for my happiness and comfort, why is it still not enough to transform me? We hear so much about how love might heal and change one's mental health, but here I am. Still grappling with many of the same demons on a daily basis. At this point, I've accepted I'm beyond repair.
Ah. There's no real point to this, just letting my brain pour some thoughts that probably couldn't be shared anywhere else.
So if you've even taken the time to read, thank you. Guess I'll be around.
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