Old love, young love, forgotten love…

My mind is just full of strange thoughts today, some of them about a boy, a guy I used to have in my life, and I’ve been thinking about him a lot these past days, more than I would like to admit…

He used to be my everything, like any teenage girl would feel about her first love, I chased him for about 2 years before he finally gave me the attention I required, and after a few months I left him. Even to me, that’s still one of the weirdest things I ever did. And usually, the closer it gets to May, the more I miss him, but I’ve realised something. I don’t miss HIM.

I miss the feeling…

The feeling of getting a message from him, out of the blue and knowing I was on his mind.

The feeling of looking out my front door, minutes after my mom left for work, and seeing his bike in front of the gate, ready to come and cuddle up next to me

The feeling of holding hands in public, and basically telling the world, look, some one choose ME

The feeling of getting to kiss him, whenever the whim struck

The feeling of spending the whole day together, and still needing more

The feeling of having someone to share the little things with

And after having some one in your life for 3+ years, it’s difficult not having them, even it was 3 years since I’ve last kissed him…

But you know what the worst part is; we didn’t end on good terms… And I hate that. I hate that I can’t tell our story without feeling a little tinge of ‘he was an asshole’ and he was… Because even though I was the one who finally did the break-up, he ended our friendship after that.

The last conversation I had with him went a little like this…

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but, ummm, my dad passed away, and, ummm I kinda need you now, because I don’t know exactly how I’m going to cope without you holding me together.”

“Hey, please leave me alone, I thought we were done.”

Cue the new waterfall of tears…

And that, along with the fact that he was a cheating scumbag, made me hate him, more than I ever thought I will. And it makes me sad, knowing that someone who meant that much to me, years ago, is not in my life any more…

This above story is also the reason why I try not ending anything on bad terms, I will fight, that’s a guarantee, but I will also probably make the first step to better things, because I hate that feeling of losing someone and knowing it ended badly.

I’m not sad that I lost him, I know now he was not some one I need in my life anymore, but I honestly hope that I never have to lose some one I care about that much again, in that way…

Some day I think life would’ve been better not meeting him at all, because then I didn’t have to live with the knowledge that someone like him existed in this world. Then there wouldn’t have been anything to miss. But I needed to meet him, to show me how to go on, how to survive, how to not need some one, how to be me, how to love, how to be.

Now I just need to remember that…

Thank you…

Remembering who I am…

This past few weeks, months, I’ve gotten so carried away by life, by everything, that I forgot to take a second for myself…

And when I have a second, I numb my brain with music and books, to keep from thinking, because if I gave myself a few seconds of silence, I would’ve noticed, I’m busy losing me…

I’ve been described as a few things, most recently and frequently, crazy, but there is two things that always stood out, and when I heard them I thought, Yup, this is who and what I want to be for the rest of me.

The first one came from one of my first boyfriends’, he told me, almost daily, “you’re like a flower-child, I can’t look at you and NOT be happy.”

Then there was this one time when me and my SuzyPie weren’t as epicly good friends as we are today, and she told one of our other friends, in response to the question why she doesn’t like me, “she’s always bubbling, this jumping, happy-go-lucky giggly thing.” (or something like that) and this was supposed to be an insult, but I loved it… That some one who wasn’t in contact with me that much, thought of me as this extremely happy person, made me even happier…

But the last few weeks, I misplaced my inner flower-child, I don’t know exactly why or where, but I feel her seeping back into my system, slowly, inch by inch.

I realized that these things I fixate on, is making me crazy, stealing my happiness, kidnapping my flower-child.

So, I’ve made an active decision to not have bad things in my life, either change them, or lose them.

I need to get my flower-child back, I need to remember who I am, who I like myself to be.

Love always,

M*

 

5 Thing Friday! You should give it a try…

So the five things I felt the need to bring under your attention is things you should try, maybe not today, but SOON!!

1. Pimms N0. 1 Cup – I tried this today (for the first time!) and fell in love. Head first, head over heels, in love. Gosh!!! It’s bloody Brilliant!!!
2. Campari – On ice, with just a slice of lemon – This one got introduced to me by Robbie the Foreigner, and, fuck me, it’s amazing!! How I have missed this, my whole life, I haven’t the faintest. But now I have discovered it, and need it daily!!!
3. Rainbow Rowell – I discovered Eleanor and Park by accident, and halfway through the book, I think I might just like Rainbow Rowell almost as much as John Green!
4. Being strong… I don’t do this enough, and wish I could. But this week I seriously needed to put my big girl panties on, and be strong. And now, its almost a week, and I’m alive. 
5. Letting go and just enjoy… Letting your inner child take control and making memories, without thinking about the what if’s, the tomorrows, the maybes. Just doing, because it seems like a great idea.

Imagine It Prompt – Falling down

A prompt from Vast Imaginations got this post flowing, I choose the picture prompt, and just wrote…

“Sam?!” she calls out softly, not wanting to be too loud. 

The old Skeleton of a farmhouse has been their meeting place for a few months now, and no one saw them, or suspected anything, but Andea was rather safe than sorry. The Skeleton was perfect, except for its location. Only a short distance from the old barn, where all the tools were being kept, and people visited a few times daily.

“Sam?!” she calls again, a little louder, a bit more urgent.

“Andea?” She hears his honey-voice answer and she rushes to the Main Bedroom, the only room which still have a roof and all four walls.

With a sigh she rushes into his arms and stands there, happy just feeling him near her, touching her, being. 

“I missed you,” he whispers into her hair, inhaling as much of her as possible. 

She places a butterfly-soft kiss in his neck and hug him closer.

“I missed you too…”

 

Reluctantly they pull apart and sit down on the Bed, which is actually a collection of stolen pillows and a few tattered blankets. It’s been a week since the lovers saw each other last, and for two 16 year-olds, in midst of their first love affair, a week is a lifetime.

“Any news?” he asks, referring to her father, the biggest road block in their relationship.

“Still thinks the ‘workers-class’ is scum, still wants me to get into a relationship with Paul next door and, most importantly, still wants your father to move to the other farm. In the next town.” 

As Andea finish the terrible news a tear slip down her cheek, Sam wipes it off with his thumb and keeps his hand there, holding her face like a fragile doll. 

“We will be together,” he whispers, so sure off it, so sure that the love between them will beat the world and all its rules and restrictions and prejudice  thoughts.

They sit there, body against body, just sitting, knowing their love is true, real.

In the old, broken house, their love is the only solid thing left…. 

maybe you’re right, maybe not

I’ve been wondering about something… Why do we, as people, not only women, but all people, fall in love with the wrong people?
And sometimes it’s not even real ‘falling in love’, sometimes its just excessive infatuation.
But still we have this epic tendency to form connections with completely the wrong people.
Are we really that masochistic and self-destructive that we don’t realize what’s wrong for us? Or do we just enjoy the few moments of butterflies so much, that we are willing to forget about getting hurt and just want to keep falling?

I love falling in love with things, like this quote from Country Strong

From Google Images…

I get teased daily about thinking everything is ‘the coolest thing EVER’ or ‘the prettiest thing EVER’ or ‘the nicest place EVER’, but I like the fact that I can get excited about things, small things and big things.

And I like that I could get excited about Him, even if He was the wrong choice by any means, and I’m setting myself up for some terrible sadness, I’m so happy to have met Him. To have Him cross my path, and give me so many new things to think about in life…

Still, the question hangs in the air, why do we get enchanted by people who don’t feel the same for us? Or why are they so much better at hiding and controlling their enchantment?

This quote from Perks of Being a Wallflower (the best movie EVER =]) explains a bit of it…

From Google images..

And it’s sad that we don’t want to give ourselves the chance of wanting more, better, because we are afraid of failure, so we settle for that what is in front of us, just because we don’t think something better will come along.

Which is why I went on two dates with a 50-year-old who I had nothing in common with, just because he was there, and it felt so good to have some one pay attention to me… But that is also why I gave the 50 yo up for Him, because I wanted more, and I wasn’t sure I was getting it from Him, but I wanted the chance…

Did I fail? I dunno. Did I succeed? I dunno…

Life is messy. Love is messier…

I wonder if I will ever know if He was actually interested? Or if I will ever share the whole story with any one but my sister and my notebook…? But mostly, I wonder, if circumstances weren’t as they are, and it wasn’t the wrong time or place for us, would ‘we’ have stood a chance? Would I have gotten a chance?

I will always want just one more proper kiss (not the little girl kind) and I will always sit with the knowledge that I’m not gonna get it, not willingly. Because having to ask for a kiss, that is kinda starting to suck…

Save me from this turmoil in my mind…

Love always,

Marlize

Follow up on my ‘open letter’

I had some questions on my open letter, posted on St Patrick’s day, one of my favourite days…
Most questions from my sister, others from me, and some from a commenter…

Yes, the letter was aimed at some one, it’s too personal not to be. But I’m afraid to say ALL of that to him, so the better (cowardly) option is to make all of you suffer through it.

No, I don’t still mean everything said in that letter.
Like, I’m not done… I don’t think I could ever be truly done with him.
I never though some one could get under my skin in a month or less, but he did, he embedded himself into me like a bad cold, and now I can’t get rid of him, honestly, I don’t really want to get rid of him. But I have to…

Why? Because he is leaving across the Atlantic (Or Indian, or some freaking ocean) in two days… And I don’t think whatever we had will ever last beyond that flight. Or beyond yesterday.

There’s this small romantic girl sitting in my head, reading this whole thing as a rom-com novel, rooting for him to stay behind for me, or for me to follow him home. But I’m realistic. It won’t work. It’s not even properly working now, with him here! Because I never know what he is thinking.
I don’t even know if he actually likes me, all the normal clues are there, but then all the clues pointing towards the opposite is also there!

So, now, I’m just sitting here, like a supporting character in my own movie, waiting for him to tell me what is going on, what is happening. Because I know there is no future what so ever for us, but I also know I would rather spend this last two days with him, remembering him, remembering ‘us’ than not see him before he leaves. And never seeing him again.
Because whether we use this last two days or not, I’m gonna hurt the same when he leaves…
My friend told me a story the other day… A boy heard his leg was being amputated, and instead of being sad about it, moping around the house for that last hours with his leg. He went out, had fun, used it!
So don’t amputated me before the time is here, use what you have, while you still have it…
There is a small part of me (I think that part is being influenced by the silly girl reading the rom-com) that fell in love with him, on the very first day, when he looked at me with that brown eyes and talked to me with that unbelievable accent.
But I over-ruled that part and the rom-com girl, I refused to fall for him, I knew he was leaving, and I knew he would never fall for me… That’s just not how life goes for me…

So now I’m standing here, alone, not knowing what is happening with us, with me.
It’s horrible, not having control of your own life, also, it’s amazing, feeling this way, not knowing how great the next moment could be.

Point is, I like him. In a ‘you make my heart beat faster’-way. In a ‘its fun spending time with you’-way. In a ‘can we just lay together and look at the stars’-way. Yes I sound all romantic and soppy and such, but point is, it’s difficult not to be….

He confuses me.

More than anything, that’s the main part of all of this… Confusion…

That silly part of me, wants to believe that he likes me as well, that that is why he is pushing me away, to not get hurt when he leaves. But as I say, that’s not how life works for me…

If some one has a crystal ball, please look into it and tell me I’m not crazy? At least not certifiable…

Love always,
Marlize

I should know by now…

Not that I think you care,
But I like you

Not that I really care,
But I think you like me too.

Not that I think you care,
But I would like to kiss you.

Not that I really care,
But I think you want to kiss me too

Not that I think you care,
But I will miss you

Not that I really care,
But will you miss me too?

Not that I think you care,
But I don’t want to see you go

Not that I really care,
But do u have to go?

Not that I think you care,
But is there a little part of you
That actually care?

Not that I really care,
But do you realize I’m just pretending,
And it’s really actually hurting?

open letter…

(DISCLAIMER – this is a long letter, to no one… read at own risk. and I know the grammar and punctuation sucks. But then again, I’m the writer, so there must be a reason for the lack of punctuation…)

 

im done…

that’s what i told myself

but then why are you stuck in my head like a bad cold? 

this wasnt my imagination…

this wasnt in my head

ive read somewhere that love, feelings, infatuation, whatever you want to call it, is never completely one-sided. then why this? this hot and cold treatment? 

this run around with my infatuation for you.

u’re giving me whiplash..

u’re making me quote twilight!

why go out?

why make me dinner?

why go on with this silly correspondence?

if there is nothing? why not just leave me alone…

this wasnt my imagination…

this wasnt in my head

im not insane

but i AM DONE

im finished trying to understand

im done fishing with ur mind

and MOSTLY im done with whatever mad, mad game u are playing…

because, if i understand one of your million cryptic messages correctly,  I DO deserve better. i do deserve the ‘greatest gift’ from some one who is willing to give it to me. from some one who isn’t afraid. because love and feelings and all that will always scare everyone. but if u want something badly enough, you will go through the afraid. just to see what lies on the other side… and sure, if you have been to the other side and gotten hurt beyond repair, that afraid will seem thicker and harder to work through. but u cant throw every maybe and what if away…

people say they stay out of things, to not get hurt, to not hurt others. dont you think it hurts anyway? it hurts because u are so wonderful, and u give a fuck. u are so amazing and u dont care.

the most wonderful things could be waiting on the other side of that afraid… and im not saying that im something wonderful, because im not… but i couldve been. we will never know… u werent willing to give our maybe a chance.

but i was.

maybe too willing

maybe too into it from the get go.

im not insane…

this wasnt all in my head

you cant miss someone who meant nothing to you… 

and you meant something, obviously, otherwise, i wouldnt be missing you as much as i am…

this wasnt all in my head…

this wasnt all in my imagination.

but then again

this is what i do.

i build these things up in my head, and make them bigger and better.

then i start believing my head…

instead of reality

then my heart starts to follow, because my head tells it what a great idea it is.

And then I scare people of.

i freak them out, without even trying, because that’s what i do… because its in me to be over the top. to jump into relationships, even just a supposedly fun and flirty one, with everything. because i dont know how not to do that…

even when i know, in my head and heart, that i am not ready for my big, epic love. and that i know you are certainly not my big, epic love.

i still jump into the first sign of ‘like’ as if my life is depending on it… because, in all honesty, being addicted to you, to love, to heartache and heartbreak, is a whole lot safer, and healthier, than cutting, drinking and all the other useless things people get addicted to… 

I wanted a flirtation…

I wanted some fun.

but all my actions pointed to me wanting something more, something permanent. 

is this my way of ruining my own chances? is this how i safe my heart? by pretending to be overly in love, when i know its not what i want or need. 

then again…

maybe my heart knew something i didn’t. we didnt…

this letter is on the point of becoming pointless…

maybe because i know you will never read it, and i keep on writing in the hopes that the longer the letter, the bigger the chance of you seeing what is going on in this messy head of mine… 

God… every song i hear makes me think of you. why? why? why? why did we have to have so much in common?

why did you have to be so close to the guy i have been waiting for?

was this all just coincidence?

is God, faith, cupid, whatever, sitting up there laughing at me, thinking, as you are, that im some stupid little girl who actually though life was going in the right direction for her for once…

w

t

f

was this in my imagination…

was this all just in my head…

im sorry…

im sorry for thinking there was more.

im sorry for bothering you

im sorry about being so very ME

and lastly im sorry for everyone suffering through this letter…

I read somewhere once, rather regret the things you did, than the things you didn’t… 

i dont regret trying, but maybe one day you will regret that you didnt…

 

ive been thinking and i dont regret it, any of it, im sorry, sorry i made a fool of myself, sorry i thought i was actually worth ur time. but i dont regret it. i dont regret trying, i dont regret jumping when i shouldve waited. i dont regret being me, even if me was obviously not what u wanted. 

 

mostly… im sorry for being such a little girl… 

 

Maybe one day you will read this and know…

 

(this post was written a while ago… and who knows if i still mean everything said here. but it needs to get out. so I’m posting it on one of my favourite days, at my favourite time)

Writing is my curse…

I made myself belief I want to be a writer, years ago, I think I was in grade 10, and I stuck to that… I don’t usually stick to things, I jump in, head first, for a few days, sometimes even weeks, and then it sizzles out.

But writing… writing stuck…

I don’t know why, but whatever I’m feeling, writing helps that emotion. If I’m happy, and I write, I become happier. When I’m feeling a tad depro, and I write about it, it’s like the ink that flows onto the paper is my black mood, and when I’m done with that poem, flash fiction, letter, email, blog post, I feel better. I feel good.

And the weirdest part is, I write better when I’m sad, and I write sad stories a lot better than happy stories. Some head-doctor will try to diagnose that to something, but to me it just means I understand the sad part of my brain better than I do the happy part.

Because my happy-brain, she’s a bitch… She throws herself into things with no regrets and no handle on life. She jumps, no thinking about consequence or reason, because she is a flowerchild, a flowerchild who covers up the sadness, who magics away the blackness.

I’m probably crazy, I get that a lot, but writing helps with that craziness, writing takes a bit of it away, and sometimes puts a bit back. But mostly, writing is just an outlet for the crazy…

I tell myself, I write because I want to leave something behind, I want a legacy, or at least a shot at one… but I lie… I write because a new notebook and pen is way cheaper than a shrink and a prescription for antidepressants. And if, maybe, my writing one day means something, to some one else… yay… but at the moment, and most of the time, I write for selfish reasons. To help myself, and to get praise…

But this curse of writing, its something I don’t ever want to lose, or swap for anything. because it means so much to me…

Why do you write??

 

Love Always,

Marlize

FWF – Coming back for you…

*A/N* For almost a year, I haven’t participated in the FWF going on over at Kellie’s. But last week I did it, and it opened up this flood of words in me, and I just couldn’t wait for the new prompt this week just so that I can write!!

Here is the link to the prompt, http://kellieelmore.com/2014/03/07/fwf-free-write-friday-image-prompt-16/ please have a look, enjoy and link me to your story in the comments! I would love to know what the house told you…

This house has a story…what is it?

Image Credit: We Heart It

 

With the truck fully loaded, he looks back at the old house in the woods… The house that kept all of his memories safe.

The good

The bad

The beautiful 

and the horrifyingly bad.

 

“Dad, let’s go!” 

He looks back at his girl sitting in the truck, his face almost as sad as his is. Becky… She looks so much like her mother that it hurts looking at her. 

“I’m coming…” 

 

He walks to the truck and pulls away, with a glance into the rearview mirror he spaces away, to all the times… 

 

*~*~*~*~*~

 

A silly girl leans over her crashed bicycle as he pulls of the road, silly because she is standing in the middle of the road. Not bothering to move out of the way, or bothering to hold down her skirt which keeps blowing up every now and then from the breeze. 

“Everything okay?” he asks through the window of his truck.

“Oh, simply perfect. You see, it is suppose to only have one wheel on and a broken chain. That’s how I bought it.”

He rolls his eyes at the cheeky remark of the petite redhead he’s been eyeing everyday on the beach. 

As he gets out of the truck he asks, “what did you do?”

“A bunny attacked me,” she says matter-of-factly, no sarcasm this time, “I swerved, I hit a rock, I fell and here we are…”

He frowns, waiting for a punchline, but non comes. A bunny attacked her…

“Thanks for stopping, but I’m fine, I will just go knock on that house over there and give my mom a call to come get me.”

She starts walking away from him, the amazingly sexy blonde surfer she has seen on the beach a few times now. And, of course, he chooses today to notice her.

“It’s empty… Been that way for years now.” He calls after her as he picks up the mangled bike and toss it onto the body of the truck with no effort at all.

“Hey! That’s mine!” She yells and run up to the truck.

“No shit, “he replies and opens up the passenger door for her, “get in, I’ll take it to the shop and drop you off.”

That was the first time they met, and for many years later, he could pinpoint the moment he fell in love to that second where she stood in front of him, not sure whether to get into his truck or not, but with that smile on her face that said, I trust you, I don’t like that I trust you, but I trust you.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“A picnic? It’s our first date and you think a picnic is the answer?”

“I thought it was romantic!” He objected and lead her further down the little dirt path.

He finds the perfect spot of grass, throws open a blanket and pulls her down next to him..

it looks idyllic. Almost movie-like. The wildflowers dancing in the breeze, the sun setting and as a backdrop, the house in front of which they first met.

“Fine, it’s a little romantic… I love it.” She nudges up against him and gives him a kiss. 

He laughs and looks down at her in wonder. This girl is everything he has ever wanted out of life. And now summer is reaching an end. 

One more month and they are going back home. Far from each other… The past week, since they met, the spent every possible moment together, and fell in love. And tonight was their first official date. And he wanted to tell her how much he has grown to love her.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“I’m not going home…” he tells her.

They are sitting in their favourite spot, an old swing-set in front of the empty, abandoned house and she is, in fact, going home tomorrow.

“Why?” she asks. Her voice soft, a tone he now knows as her ‘lets-keep-the-emotions-out’-voice.

He turns to her, “because, Rebecca. Home is so very far away from all the memories we made here. If I stay here, you will know here to come find me. When you realize that this was more than just a summer fling to me. My holiday job turned into a permanent job and I already got a flat out here. I can’t abandon the last few weeks… Even if I have to cherish them alone. “

She just sits. No response. Silently looking up at the spooky house who has watched over this summer fling, who saw every second of every moment that makes her want to cry now. Because it has to end.

“I can’t…….” she mutters and walks away.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Ethan?”

He looks up, the sun in his eyes, but he still recognizes her. He smiles, convinced it is just a dream like all the times he saw her since she left a year ago.

“You came?” Still unsure if she is real or not.

“We agreed, didn’t we? On our first date, to come back every year to watch the sunset.”

“You’re a bit late for the sunset…” he jokes and gestures towards the sunrise. Then he pulls her closer, finally convinced she is real. 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She came back

She left

She came back

She left

the pattern never changed. 

But still Ethan stayed in the little seaside town where they first met. He couldn’t think of living somewhere else… One day she will realize that he really did love her, still do, and come back. Together they will buy The House and raise kids, and be happy… 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The day of her love finally came… Too late… 

Fifteen years after The First Date, she didn’t show. Not for sunrise, or sunset, or sunrise again. Ethan was convinced he has lost her forever. Then a girl comes walking out of the bushes, and he starts crying. Not because it is Rebecca. But because it isn’t… But she looks so much like the girl he met fifteen years ago.

“Don’t cry,” Not-Rebecca’s voice said, the same voice, just no sarcasm.

“Are you Ethan?” she then asks as she sits down next to him. 

He nods, yes…

“Then you are my father… I’m Becky.”

He looks at her, so together, so stable, so calm. 

“Becky… Rebecca…

“My mother.”

“Yes…”

A few seconds of stillness passes, then she hands him a sealed envelope. She left this for you…

 

Ethan, love…

i’m so very sorry

first, for not telling you about Becky. second, for being dead…

u see. i have cancer. had. 

but, at fifteen, when we met, i was in remission and so sure it would never come back. but it did… the cancer and the pregnancy came together… 

I wanted to stay, so badly. but how could i die on you?! how could i tell you you are gonna have a child, and then die on you, and probably take her with me?! I just couldn’t…

I couldn’t deal… I ran to my mom, told her everything. She helped me.

I survived the pregnancy, and the bout of cancer. After Becky was born I was back in remission, and while I finished school, Mom raised Becky. 

I moved out, I got a job. We had a good life.

I wanted to tell you so many times. 

Every time I got close to telling, I got scared. What if I die..

Five years ago, my cancer came back. Like a bitch… I got bad. VERY bad. 

We moved back to mom’s and she took over Becky’s care again. I hid all of it from you, so well… because I wanted you to have a life, to go on. But year after year after year after year you sat on that swing and waited for me to say that three words that ruin lives… i love you…

 

I couldn’t do that to you. 

 

I wrote Becky a letter as well, telling her about you, about us, about the 3rd of June. and about this spot. She only got her letter the day I died. I knew she would come looking for you, so I asked her to give you this. 

To remember

To never give up

to love

to forget

 

Buy our house, Ethan love.

Make it perfect. 

Have a life.

 

I have loved you since that first day, and will love you till my last… 

 

Always,

your rebecca

 

*~*~*~*~*~

“Dad! Watch where you’re going!”

Ethan snaps out of his memories and pulls of the road as he looks over at Becky, remembering Rebecca.

“Let me drive, dad. you get some sleep. You know how bad this week always is for you.”

 

Yes, it is, he thinks as he switches seats with his thirty year old daughter. Which is why she always gives up her summer holiday to come spend it with him at his house by the sea where he first met her mother. But this was the last one. It’s time for him to go on. To forget. To life.

 

A/N – And that’s what the house told me… the sadness he saw. the love. the happy. the bad. the ugly.

Love always, Marliz3e