Last words for a stranger

To the man-who-works-with-hands

I dreamed of the old you nights ago. In it, you found me and you told me that it wouldn’t hurt for long, that it would be okay. I placed my cheek against your chest and listened. I could hear your heart beat strong like it does in life. It anchored me, brought me peace and after a long, long time, I felt safe again.

But then I came back to this world where I couldn’t breathe, where your cruelty has become my most familiar friend, where you’d rather cast me away because it’s easier. And yet, I’ve remained near you because I know which is worse between your absence and presence.

Today is a sad day for me. It is the last time I will write to you and for you. I have said all I’ve had left to say. I ripped the words from the deepest parts of me and had them flung back at me repeatedly. I’ve been buried in the weight of my own love, my own loss, my own sorrow.

We do not choose love. It chooses us. But we do get to choose the moment we throw in our white flag. And so, you have mine, finally. While I’ve given up on the dream that you’ll come home again one day, I have not given up feeling the way I’ve felt from the moment I first saw you. You are wrong. There are things that last.

With deepest regret and unwavering love,

the girl who waited until there was no hope left.

Stop run ya man’s phone, email and facebook!

Trust is not a one way thing.

It’s ironic that people ask me for relationship advice. You’d think I’m some very experienced woman with enough ruined relationships to serve as a sort of guru. I’m not.

Every time a woman in particular asks me for advice the conversation ends one way. She’s depressed and angry by the end of it and usually writes me off as a “cruel bitch”. I don’t mind. We’re not all wired to take the truth. So ladies, if you’re going to keep reading this, keep in mind that the truth hurts and pisses off even the most controlled among us.

Last week, one girl asked me if I thought her man was cheating on her. This is how the conversation went:

Distressed Woman – I think he’s cheating on me.

Me – Why?

DW – I saw some messages on his phone to this girl.

Me – I see. And how exactly did you see his phone?

DW – I went through it while he was in the shower. I know. I know. That’s wrong. But he makes me feel like I have to.

Me – Well, leave him.

DW – But I’m not sure if he’s cheating. He was telling her that he’d like to hear what she sounds like when she moans. Do you think he’s cheating on me?

Me – You need to ask him that. If you can’t trust him. Leave him.

Sigh. Shit like this irks me. Yes, it’s wrong to go through a man’s phone, his emails, his facebook messages, his wallet, his personal belongings. It’s a violation of his privacy, a violation of his trust in you and it’s an insult to yourself, particularly your intelligence.

Clearly, DW is insecure and has trust issues. But I wonder, just how many of us understand this concept of trust. How can you expect a man to be trustworthy if he can’t trust you with his privacy? I believe that trust is a two way thing. You get what you give. If your investments are shitty then expect twice as shitty returns.

Furthermore, such actions make you look desperate and demented. No man can make you feel like you have to reduce yourself to such a disgusting pile of patheticness. You must choose to become that thing. If you can’t trust him, you can’t love him; if you can’t love him then how the hell can you hope to build a lasting relationship with him?

So for all you ladies in that position, stop embarrassing yourself and womankind. Do yourself and the man a favour and just leave. There’s no hope for a lasting union there.

And while you’re at it, learn to love yourself enough to get some help. Become a woman of character, a strong woman who can be trusted and who deserves to be trusted. Who you are will attract the type of man you want.

So remember, trust is a two way thing. Happy hunting!

Sharing a quick moment with you while I’m on the go.
Sara.

Day Time Madness in Dreams

Twin globes of soft, golden light. Two suns in a sky kissing gentle Atlantic waves. The epitome of heavenly. The essence of peace. Or maybe, just day time madness in dreams.

But then my greedy eyes reached for the sky again and beheld a moon and sun, separated by space, connected by space, sharing space. Apart and together all at once.

And you were there too, like you always, always are, but this time it was you taking me somewhere in my own dream. Wherever somewhere is I don’t really care. As long as somewhere contains the sum of us. And in your somewhere where I now am, I was promised to you for every lifetime wherever life can be, has been and will be.

How can it be day time madness in dreams then? Nothing is ever madness where I’m with you. Because for me, you’re the epitome of everything real, sane and eternal.

Sharing a quick moment with you while I’m on the go.
Sara.

Do we fall or grow in love?

Been thinking of a summer romance in the tropics. Been thinking of creating a galaxy for us, a galaxy built with the bricks of English syntax and fortified with the intricacy of meaning, built for me to be forever with you. I wanna be with you more than I’m with me.

But mostly, I’ve been thinking of love and theories of how it happens. Do we fall or grow in love? How does it happen? I’ve been thinking and thinking and thinking. How do I imprison the how of love in these bricks of mine? How do I capture perfection with imperfection?

All along I was breathing and then one day you saturated the air around me. You became the oxygen entwined with my blood, rushing through every inch of me, keeping this me alive to be with the me you’ve always known. Now all I breathe is you. That’s how it happened for me.

So you see, it wasn’t a falling or a growing.

Sharing a quick moment with you while I’m on the go.
Sara.

Dear Man-Who-Works-With-Hands

Dear Man-Who-Works-With-Hands:

Life only gets harder and time is a wench who tricks us into believing that things will be different as we grow older.

The harder we try to avoid certain outcomes, the more certain is our arrival at that destination. So what’s the secret to happiness?

I’ve found that happiness is as easy as what we choose. Like right now, I’ve chosen to dwell within me where I’m so full of you; where you and I don’t need a conjunction to become apart of a single idea.

So when you’re sad baby, just remember that happiness is a choice we make.

Yours Always,
the Woman-Created-For-Those-Hands-Of-Yours.

Sharing a quick moment with you while I’m on the go.
Sara.