Love, Light & Spite

A ferret, a car and a breakup

Like a ferret that was once domesticated against its own will, the longer he spoke, the more rabid I became.

Except, the ferret was actually a woman that became accustomed to a morbidly desolate lifestyle, where in which all offers of intimacy and affection were cast aside in irritation, no matter the route it took. How many months could I recall of the treatment? I don’t know. It was more of internal rabidity, as I was shocked to have chosen this person against my better judgment. A type of situation where the words spoken, are so callous, you couldn’t believe them to be true. The case in point, a person, with a penis, that would call themself a man, but “real” men don’t wake up and choose to emotionally brutalize their lovers in a car. It’s a fickle thing, romance, one morning you kiss and look at them with a soft sigh, and then the next day, one of you is being called an ugly feminist, thus, you’re no longer blinded by adoration. You look up at their receding hairline and really take it in. Nothing makes you stare at a hairline more than your ex saying he potentially never loved you. A conversation with no real rhyme or sensibility, turned an honorable individual to tatters. Within the ecosystem of reasons for mistakes made, people that move with a semblance of grace, is the dividing factor of an evolving personage or not. I should’ve known when a hypothetical of getting cancer was discussed and he said he’d leave if I was diagnosed.

Burn. Burn it all. The machinations of my mind blurring the lines between what’s legal and what’s not. “I know, I’ll key his car, it is the only thing he’s really ever loved.” That’ll show him. Another afterthought fueled by ego bruised fantasies that weren’t very committal from the get-go. I watched the softness of his face turn to a grey-brown, bruising like a rotten vegetable left on the windowsill, slowly melting away by the hour. Truth be told, I was not in power, but he took all of his away when he decided that emasculation was the most comfortable version of himself. Some men feel the need to take a young woman that is trying hard to achieve an authentic living, down a few pegs, with mean words and no solution. Rather than meeting confidence with confidence, which is all that a young woman who has taken time to know herself wants, you take a big turd on the work she has done, to get to the place she is in. A big stinking turd. Come to think of it, the people that I have felt entirely sexually attracted to, were always themselves, if not majorly, they were minorly confident of who they were and where they were going.

Upon my first reflection I believe I let him speak for far too long. A very deep, dark hole was dug and the bottom was nowhere to be seen - obsidian. This reflection executed my subconscious plan, to let him speak until nothing can be taken back. Words matter and the power they hold creates the stakes for a future drenched in the fate that has been spoken. Maybe it was the first time he truly gave and he gave it all so freely. The words omitted, came so easily, much like speaking to a brick wall, no repercussions were constructed prior to the looseness of lips, just pure, unclenched pain. Although he pained me, it was just momentarily, his pain will clearly live on within, until he gets the correct help. Embittered is the wrong word, I am disappointed, disappointed that the men who have bundles of emotional support, stigma free zones, facilities and finances in place to be helped, would rather choose the latter. The latter being, hurting the women around them that want to love them, to hold them and to support them.

Pain unkempt then, unleashed, is so insidious, especially by an emotionally hindered person (stupid) and someone who’d rather wank to a screen or play 4 hours of video games than talk to a woman that loves them. If you’re unable to identify how your pain manifests (we all have pain built within), then it’s not a good place for yourself to be in. Consenting to a relationship with a self-driven and openly vulnerable individual, that’s goal is to better themself, out of and inside their relationships, when you, yourself is emotionally inflamed, is a very counterintuitive process. Of course, it takes two to tango and the very usual occurrence of a healed and unhealed partnership, is a part of the trials and tribulations of your twenties. Also, ‘bettering yourself’ doesn’t mean drinking celery juice and waking up at 5am for a seamen retention orientated workout class, it may just be a commencement of self-awareness and being attuned to your reactions, everyone’s focus will be different. Celery juice and self-awareness could be yours. Nourished IQs and EQs are very sexy to be around. You don’t have to be an academic or read bell hooks (thats just a plus), but having some form of emotional capability is regarded. Knowing what you want and how to get it, or, working towards getting it. Knowing what you don’t want and bulldozing the people around you because your communication skills are deficient, is not appealing. A few times this year, I have been called assertive, or things in that genre, which I most likely am, is it a bad thing? To the wrong person? Yes.

Peach, I am not. I am not a perfect peach that is fuzzy, soft and buttery all the time. However, I adore people that are, and at times, I become momentarily jealous of people that are always light and airy, a peach person is what we’ll call them. Although, I do want to love people the way they wish to be, I have lots of care to give, showed by my long list of failed romantic partnerships and ineffective friendships. Thats life though, we trial and we error. Despite the ridicule, a victim mentality phase, I don’t really need therapy mindset, crying after sex (every time), hating my hair for being blonde, trickles of disordered eating and a good long while of C-PTSD and some other stuff, I still very much want to give and love and kiss and hug and embrace. I am angry of the treatment that has been thrust onto me and disappointed in myself for the reactions that I, at times, chose to have. My passion goes to anger and warps into devotion, transforming into enthusiasm and at times this all becomes a compulsion. I will not dim my light in order to feel more digestible by people who don’t embrace me. We can just make a pact to not embrace each other. My strength is here to support others, not to outweigh, I expect the same.

With kindness and some negativity still in motion,

I hope that the boy that hurt me, just to get out, is shown love and care because he needs it.

Celeste xo