alecsnotalex

[alecsnotalex]

type shi

[alecsnotalex]

°❀⋆.art and artistೃ࿔*:･

[alecsnotalex]

to the person in the bell jar...

Sylvia Plath, from ‘The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath’ / Vilhelm Hammershøi / Nicole Krauss, from ‘The History of Love’ / Ramon Casas / Joy Harjo, from ‘Speaking Tree’ / D S (saatchiart) / Fyodor Dostoevsky, from ‘The Idiot’ / Aleardo Terzi / Sylvia Plath, from ‘The Bell Jar’

[alecsnotalex]

[alecsnotalex]

[alecsnotalex]

“When people treat you like they don’t care, believe them.”

— Unknown

[alecsnotalex]

Sinéad O'Connor, from her book titled "Rememberings," originally published in June 2021

[alecsnotalex]

this gif is like a poem to me

[alecsnotalex]

[alecsnotalex]

If you don't understand why somebody is grieving for so long over something, consider yourself fortunate that you do not understand.

[alecsnotalex]

[alecsnotalex]

i cannot.

[alecsnotalex]

^.^

[alecsnotalex]

icarus laughed as he fell.

@richardhellfan1949-deactivated2

[alecsnotalex]

What no one actually tells you is it doesn't get better every time it happens. To be honest, at this point, I thought it would've been easy now. Maybe I'd be used to it now, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much because I've felt much heartbreak in the past: "surely I wouldn't feel bad."

"Surely, it wouldn't hurt at all."

"I didn't really like him that much." I really didn't. There would be times when he would speak and I would just feel angry. I would just feel annoyed with the way he blows his hot soup, or the way he tastes the sauce off the spoon I feed him. The way I'd hate the way his lips are shaped, or the way it makes me mad whenever he says: "You know that, right?" "Isn't that cool?"

I thought he was a dimwit. He was stupid. His ignorance abhors me. I hated how I was smarter than him, and I hated how I was better than him. I hated how fast he'd finish, and how slow he's take to get dressed. i hated how he wore his double silver link chains on his neck, and how he never blocked any of his exes. Most of all, I hated how I loved his warmth. I loved his sweetness. I loved the way he cared, the way he''d kiss me to wake me up each morning with a smile on his face, telling me how beautiful I was.

I hated the way I loved how familiar he felt, and how I had him in the tip of my finger, spinning around in the palm of my hands. I hated how I loved the way his hair curled, and how his eyebrows were perfect, and how his body seemed as though he was carved out of Aphrodite's marble. I hated how much I cared about caring about him, and I hated how needed he made me feel. I hated how I loved it when he laughed at my silly jokes, and how it hurt so much when I broke up with him, but it felt good because I felt like I had the last word. i hate how much I miss him right now, and how I feel like I made the wrong decision letting go because what if maybe, maybe that was the greatest form of love and affection I was to ever feel from someone else?

But I know, I must remind myself that it will always feel this way whenever this happens. It's just the grief that comes after love fails, it is just all the hopes and aspirations, the potential for the relationship, and for how I viewed him, all the failed expectations that hurts me. It is all the places we walked in, and all the memories made, all the pictures and the sounds he made stuck in my head til the next time someone comes by to replace the space he held in me.

I was so sure it was going to get better. And that this time, it wouldn't hurt so much, hell it would probably hurt less. But it seems as though every time this happens, I forget. I forget that grieving hurts, and breaking the routine hurts. Not talking to the person you want to talk to the most hurts. Thinking about him with someone else hurts. Rememebering he's fine after I broke up with him hurts. And thinking about him hurts. Putting yourself back out there hurts.

There's going to be another place I can never again visit: his house. His kitchen, his bed. His car, his living room, his couch. His arms. His presence. All the places we walked in are different now because we once were there, and although I want to believe that some essence of us will stay and remain there, it'll stay the same. We didn't change anything, we changed. You would think I'd be so good at handling these situations by now, with the amount of times I've gone through this. But no. I guess the demons I am fighting in my head is this: "maybe there really is no one for me."

Back to the drawing board.

What else can I work on? What more depth of self love need I to give myself to make a man treat me better? If I was so perfect and beautiful and amazing, why couldn't this one work? I mean yeah, it's not all my fault, but with all these failed relationships, aren't I the common denoominator of it all? I must remind myself: I am not. There's no point in putting myself down because I am a grown woman. I have problems to worry about, and I have responsibilities to tend to. I have no time to sit, and think, and weep. Besides, after all the heartbreak, all the men, all the failed lovers, you would think; "surely, this time around, it's easier."

It doesn't get any better every time it happens. The only difference is I know I'll get through this, it'll just be sucky for a bit, but it'll get better.

[alecsnotalex]

Remember everything.

[alecsnotalex]

This is the problem with getting attached to someone. When they leave you, you just feel lost.