TapeMachine
perpetually confused
- Jan 12, 2023
- 364
**This is intentionally somewhat ambiguous and mostly composed as a therapeutic tool for myself. I am not a writer. I simply wanted to get these heavy feelings out, that's all. I didn't really know where to post this, so I chose "off topic"?**
Why is it that everyone says, "you will know when you meet the one"?
I was so confident that I had indeed met the one when you emerged in my corner of the world... my dark, wavy-haired love with sad brown eyes and a mischievous smile. You, the most intriguing man I'd ever met. You, who would become my confidante, my closest friend..for a time.
When we spoke of the future, drunk on red wine and infatuation, we couldn't imagine one of us without the other. We were like siamese-twins, joined at our minds by an invisible tether. A future without you would have been akin to losing half of my limbs, half of my sight, half of myself.
Remember what it was like to lounge on our bed or sit outside in the shade of the banana trees and write songs together? You'd strum your guitar, and we'd sing, and there was nothing in the world that could have convinced me that some day, sooner than later, this fairytale dream of ours was going to come to a dramatic and painful halt.
So imagine the horror and surprise when less than a year after I'd happily taken your name as my own, you violently grabbed me by my throat and held me down against my will, and how desperately I tried to placate that malevolent beast that had suddenly taken residence in your eyes.
Who was this? Hadn't I known you before now? Had I ever truly known you at all?
Our love was never the same after that, and your first abusive incident was not your last. It took me a few more times to summon the courage to pack my belongings and leave. It was difficult to comprehend that the man I'd loved so fervently and the man who kept hurting me were the very same person.
I haven't thought about you in many years. I almost never think of you sentimentally any longer. But today, I watched a video of a man and woman telling a powerful story through dance. The man in the video reminds me so much of you, both in appearance and narrative.
I cannot help but recall who we were together for a brief but resplendent era before everything fell apart.
As I watch the dancers, I can almost reach out in my mind and touch the innocent face of my 27 year old self, feel what she felt over a decade ago, so blinded by naive love, so consumed with your phantasmal splendor. But then comes the stark contrast, the crushing agony that permeated that love-stricken version of me when I finally realized that what I'd loved most had been nothing more than your brilliant fabrications.
You will never read this, I'm sure. And I will never attempt to have these words delivered to you. I just wanted to sit with your memories for a short while until I'm able to purge the leftover fragments of your mind still tethered to my own.
**TW: portrayals of abuse
Why is it that everyone says, "you will know when you meet the one"?
I was so confident that I had indeed met the one when you emerged in my corner of the world... my dark, wavy-haired love with sad brown eyes and a mischievous smile. You, the most intriguing man I'd ever met. You, who would become my confidante, my closest friend..for a time.
When we spoke of the future, drunk on red wine and infatuation, we couldn't imagine one of us without the other. We were like siamese-twins, joined at our minds by an invisible tether. A future without you would have been akin to losing half of my limbs, half of my sight, half of myself.
Remember what it was like to lounge on our bed or sit outside in the shade of the banana trees and write songs together? You'd strum your guitar, and we'd sing, and there was nothing in the world that could have convinced me that some day, sooner than later, this fairytale dream of ours was going to come to a dramatic and painful halt.
So imagine the horror and surprise when less than a year after I'd happily taken your name as my own, you violently grabbed me by my throat and held me down against my will, and how desperately I tried to placate that malevolent beast that had suddenly taken residence in your eyes.
Who was this? Hadn't I known you before now? Had I ever truly known you at all?
Our love was never the same after that, and your first abusive incident was not your last. It took me a few more times to summon the courage to pack my belongings and leave. It was difficult to comprehend that the man I'd loved so fervently and the man who kept hurting me were the very same person.
I haven't thought about you in many years. I almost never think of you sentimentally any longer. But today, I watched a video of a man and woman telling a powerful story through dance. The man in the video reminds me so much of you, both in appearance and narrative.
I cannot help but recall who we were together for a brief but resplendent era before everything fell apart.
As I watch the dancers, I can almost reach out in my mind and touch the innocent face of my 27 year old self, feel what she felt over a decade ago, so blinded by naive love, so consumed with your phantasmal splendor. But then comes the stark contrast, the crushing agony that permeated that love-stricken version of me when I finally realized that what I'd loved most had been nothing more than your brilliant fabrications.
You will never read this, I'm sure. And I will never attempt to have these words delivered to you. I just wanted to sit with your memories for a short while until I'm able to purge the leftover fragments of your mind still tethered to my own.
**TW: portrayals of abuse
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