The kindness of strangers

My story starts with heartbreak.

 

Funny that I decided to start writing publicly now – at the most difficult time of my life. I think maybe there’s something about heartbreak that you just need to share… not just with anybody, but with virtual strangers. I can talk more about my life to mere acquaintances than to my closest friends. Is that strange?

 

I’ve never been a fan of letting those closest to me see me at my weakest. I hate crying in front of people – I have always cried alone. In the recent past, all that has changed drastically because of this one person who has now not only seen me cry hundreds of times but has also seen me hit rock bottom. Seriously. Rock. Bottom. Worse, he knows it is all because of him. That is the worst kind of power you can give someone over you. And, to my absolute horror, I’m handing it to him on a silver platter. Worst of all, the process is ongoing. I know I’m doing it, I’m absolutely appalled that it’s happening, but I can’t stop it.

 

 

Not to over-think things or anything (! I seem to have become an expert on that front), but somehow I think that’s linked to why I can’t talk to my family or closest friends about what I’m going through. Sure, I have in a way, but it’s been on a mostly superficial level. It’s that fear of letting those closest to you see you at your most vulnerable. I’m knowingly making that mistake with him and that’s enough for a lifetime.

 

And there’s just something about telling people you barely know about the most awful thing in your life. Suddenly, it doesn’t seem so awful. You see it in a funny perspective because you’ve put your walls up with this new person. You tell your story to them accurately, but you tell it in a different way than you would to someone you were really close to. And I don’t believe in therapy but there’s something about this alternate telling that is therapeutic.

 

Yesterday, in my hideous Sinhalese I haltingly told a random guy at work my sob story. He giggled through most of it and ‘ooh’ed and ‘aah’ed in all the right places and in the end we were both giggling and it suddenly didn’t seem so bad after all. That feeling lasted only for a short while, but it helped a little. Temporary relief is better than none at all.

 

This comes with a warning though – the talking-to-strangers scenario gets a little messy when said stranger ends up knowing said ex. You might end up hearing a whole bunch of unpleasant stuff that you really did not need to hear. Especially in the place you’re at right now.

 

For me there’s yet another dimension to this thing, though. I’ve been hearing bad stuff about this person for a long time, from basically before I met him. But sometimes, you get a gut feeling about people. I believe that you basically know pretty much instantly if someone’s inherently a bastard or not. And I just do not get that vibe from this one. Maybe he’s just used to spinning out the lines, I don’t know, but I just don’t get that from him. 

 

Ahhh, I need to give him a name. Mr. Strong – it’s perfect. That’s one of the things that attracted me to him the most. He is so unbelievably strong, in every sense of the word. I feel like he could crush me if he wanted to…with his arms, with his emotions, with his presence. Everything about him screams strength, even when he’s at his weakest. And he makes me feel strong too. He makes me feel (cheesily) like I could literally do anything I wanted. He practically forces my insecurities out of me – insecurities that have been festering inside of me for years. It’s not a romance thing – he honestly feels that I am worth more than I give myself credit for and he actually gets annoyed when I try and justify those insecurities. He pushes me to be better. Argh. He’s a good, good man. Which makes this all the more difficult.

 

Sometimes I find myself hoping that he’ll say something or do something or that I’ll hear something about him that’s unforgivable so I  can confidently tell him to fuck off and be done with it. Then I’d be able pack up, dust my hands and move on, thanking my lucky stars that I got out of that one relatively unscathed. So many people have told me he is bad news. DSD has told me that. Strangers I only just started talking to have told me that. One of his own best friends has indirectly told me to stay away.

 

I’m probably painting myself to sound like an idiot who doesn’t know what’s good for her. That’s definitely how I feel when I tell someone my problem and see their faces twist cynically when they hear me defending him. When I see those expressions, I feel like I’m defending someone who’s just hit me. I hate that look, that “oh god, this girl is so in love, she’s in denial” look. Ugh.

 

It’s not that. I’m a smart girl, I know what’s good for me and what’s not. I know he is not good for me in the state he’s in now. But whether he’s a good person or not…I’m convinced. He’s a kind, good person who’s just made a lot of mistakes.

 

And, tragically, I love him. In spite of or even because of all of them.

 

So yes. My story starts with heartbreak.

 

But I’m determined to turn this tragedy, slowly, eventually, into a story – it need not be an epic – just a story with a happy ending. 

 

 

 

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. thebohemiangypsy says:

    ?!

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