The Good Fight

1 11 2014

Maybe it over simplifies my life to say (quite truthfully) that I have only ever had two desires – one was to write, and one was to know what it was like to love and be loved in return. As an unwanted and often bewildered child my imagination was my greatest playmate and every dream was a story waiting to be written and every tale ended in triumph, with love.

I stand here now as a 33 year old woman and I realise that I have not fulfilled either of my dreams – I am still incapable of loving in the right way or of being loved – it is not just romantic love that eludes me, but love of any kind. It is like a foreign land where I have often stood at the borders trying to gain entry but never been in possession of the right passport, the right qualities to be allowed to enter. Sometimes I wonder where the years have gone; sometimes I yearn for the freedom of my 20’s where even though I sometimes felt lost I still felt that my future was just around the corner, waiting patiently for me to embrace it with a full heart and clear vision.

I thought that fate would find me, that my own personal story was written in the stars and that one day I would understand the pain that I had experienced, that I would simply wake one day and the self-loathing and doubts would disappear and that I would feel complete, feel worthwhile. I realise now that serendipity – while a fabulous word – is simply a myth. An urban legend, that gives us hope in our darkest times that we have a purpose, a story all of our own.

Words have been my saviour and have been my downfall – my words fall too fast without censor, without guard, in spite, in anger, without purpose. My written words have become obsolete – I can no longer put together a sentence that touches anyone but myself, I can no longer find magic or peace within my writing. I hardly ever bother to try anymore.

I feel like life, which was once my kindly sparring partner is now nothing but a cold enemy without feeling, without remorse, without hope. I don’t know where to go from here, and I don’t know if have the energy to continue the façade. I don’t want to fight with myself any longer.




5 responses

1 11 2014
Duma Key

Why is it your words always haunt me? you so often so elegantly write the thoughts that often race through my mind.
Your words often play like music to my ears, you write so well and yet doubt your words……often through the night I sit reading words….searching for something that spins my mind….pages and pages of drivel….stuff that will never work….hoping to stumble on something that does…..
Yet your short and rare posts always posses a buzz…… I see you through your words……may be even through who I am may be its the darkness or the shadows…….but you have a rare gift……use it???
As for love…….I think you need to be seen as who you are, a gem lost as coal……my thoughts……..on a dark winter night!

2 11 2014

It’s been so many years and our lives had often become entangled albeit silently from a distance. I don’t know who I am anymore Duma, nor if there is anywhere for me to go from here. Thank you for your words. As always my friend.

2 11 2014
Duma Key

Many years and our words have changed, our time has changed, we age and we grow and we learn.
Dont loose hope,old friend, there is much to see and miles to go… much more for you.
Silently we echo each other, our paths cross and inter-cross, as life so often seems to do, may be we pass in the shadows and may be one day we will talk in the light…….just dont ever think you are are alone… the shadows, some place….some where I am there!

10 11 2014

I hope so Duma, really I do – I just don’t know if I can continue like I am anymore. The world feels so cold and heavy right now.

11 11 2014
Duma Key

Sometimes it’s hard, days on end I feel like this, but then I have to remember, there must be more, and we see both side so when it’s dark it’s very dark, but when we finally escape……we will value so much more!
Thinking of you old friend!

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