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Your love was just an illusion

I don’t trust your love for me, which is why I don’t trust my memories of you. Everything that felt special wasn’t real; it was your messed-up mind twisting the truth, trying to convince me I’m lesser than I am. 

When you looked me in the eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder: did you feel anything ? Or were you questioning if my eye color was beautiful enough to meet your standards ? Everything you reduced me to, every single aspect of me you studied under a microscope- did that lead you to decide I was not enough ? The funny thing is, you expected me to stay; you expected me to want to stay. Did you think I should compensate for my lack of beauty by enduring humiliation and shame alongside you? Did you think I could remain with you while you started fights at 7am because your mind wouldn't let you rest ? I didn’t love you enough for that. And I wasn’t even sure your feelings toward me could be called love, so why would I stay ? To hear you whisper in my ear how small and irrelevant I was ? 

I used to think the universe would be kind enough to have me meet you after yet another disastrous relationship. You weren’t my knight in shining armor saving me from the villain; you were just another devil trying to get me to do the tango. The universe does not seem fond of sending amicable relationship arcs my way. Everyone I meet is just a lesson. 

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So he gets to say I’m nothing to him, and I don’t get to say a single thing.

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"Dirty money is dripping from the walls, a year’s supply of food wasted on marble floors, and hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical aid poured into fancy furniture and Persian rugs. I feel the artificial heat pouring in through air vents and think of children screaming for clean water. I squint through crystal chandeliers and hear mothers begging for mercy. I see a superficial world existing amid a terrorizing reality and I can’t move." - Shatter me, Tahereh Mafi.

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Ma définition de la réussite est différente et ma définition de la force mentale l’est tout aussi. Juste parce que je galère dans un rythme infernal, ça ne fait pas de moi une personne moins forte. Je ne suis pas obligée de me lever chaque matin et faire comme si je n’étais pas fatiguée du monde. Je ne suis pas obligée de mentir pour rentrer dans une boîte. Une boîte qui m’est imposée. Je ne suis pas obligée de me forcer, je ne suis pas obligée de prétendre, juste parce que seulement en faisant ça, tu me considéreras digne de ton respect. Si j’ai du mal, c’est que c’est dur, et juste parce que je trouve ça dur, ne veut pas dire que j’ai envie de laisser tomber. Et juste parce que je suis fatiguée, ça ne fait pas de moi quelqu’un avec une faible estime de soi.

J’ai vécu ma vie et personne d’autre. Et j’ai le droit de me sentir comme bon me semble. Triste, heureuse, en colère et j’en passe. C’est personnel. Si ça ne plaît pas alors ça ne me dérange pas. Je n’ai pas à être gracieuse au milieu d’une guerre. Rien ne m’oblige à sourire, même si je le fais, plus pour moi meme que pour les autres. J’ai le droit de pleurer, et de m’effondrer et de me relever et de retomber encore. Ce n’est le problème de personne, seulement le mien. Et je le fais chaque fois, et sans aide. Parce que si j’étais à compter sur qui que ce soit, je ne me relèverai jamais. Les mots sans rarement d’un soutien, si ce n’est que les gens essaient de te faire sentir que ce que tu ressens est une illusion, comme si la solution a tout était de fuire toute émotion négative, comme si c’était l’ennemi. Comme si ce dont je suis faite est le problème.

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I love it when you prove me right. Go ahead, show me how wise it is to trust my instincts.

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It's funny to me how, when something happens to a girl like someone harasses her or talks to her, and she tries to defend herself in whatever way, people start analyzing her behavior instead of the guy's. Do you realize the girl wouldn't have to talk to him if he didn't annoy her? Do you realize I have no pleasure in keeping a conversation with a moron who's invading my personal space?

Do you think I would try to be friendly to a psychopath who maliciously closed the bus door in my face for his amusement?

It's about survival. I don't have the power, and I'm fully aware of it. I'm petite, and they outweigh me by twice or more. Do you think I stand a chance if I don't act sweet and as if another man is expecting me? Men often only fear other men. And, you know what? If I scream, I'll be labeled dramatic or told I'm "exaggerating."

I had a male friend tell me, "I feel from what you told me that you talked to the guy for too long." My reaction was to express my frustration loudly. Have you ever had someone slam a door in your face? Probably not, because men don't usually do that to other men. That's abusive behavior. And is that really all you have to say ? All you can think of ?

Have you ever had a guy park his car and continue to talk to you, even when you repeatedly said you're not interested? The conversation persisted because, no matter how hard I tried to end it, he kept pushing.

This is the issue with society. We've grown too accustomed to blaming the victims. If you're sexually assaulted, it's your clothes, and you "asked for it." Rarely does anyone address the actions of the abuser, as if there's no cure for their behavior. But you can stop blaming the victim. If every time something happens, you hold the right people accountable, perhaps the perspective will change. Maybe then, the wrongdoers will be held responsible.

And maybe then, I wouldn’t be at fault, when someone else bothers me and menaces my well being.

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You once told me that the human eye is god's loneliest creation. How so much of the world passes through the pupil and still it holds nothing. The eye, alone in its socket, doesn't even know there's another one, just like it, an inch away, just as hungry, as empty.

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

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“A burnt child loves the fire” - Oscar Wilde

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I dream of innocent things, and between you and I, that’s not good.

That was the last time I’d ever see you.

Unfortunately I thought you were very handsome for the first time as well.

I kinda like your nose. And your cute smile.

And I kinda like how you probably fucked your girlfriend and how she is so fucking perfect you posted her in your story and you mentioned how fucking perfect she is and you hid the fucking story from me because im not that important and because you wanna keep lying to me.

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We’re not really strangers

Are we ?

In my mind, we were. For a long time, I only thought of us as strangers.

What we are is only a feeling. It doesn’t really matter, what we do. It doesn’t really mean much, how we act.

What we are is a feeling.

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Somehow, j’aurais aimé ne jamais avoir existé dans la même dimension que toi, ne jamais avoir respiré le même air que toi et ne jamais avoir eu à te rencontrer toi.

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Je sais que j’ai dit que j’aurais aimé que tu sois mort. Je ne le pense pas. Je ne le pensais pas. Je veux que tu sois bien. Loin de moi. Mais en bonne santé. Content.

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I've always been someone who looks too deep into something or someone, that's because I realized from a young age that there's always more than what meets the eye.

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La vie m’a donné ce que je voulais, en brisant mon cœur au passage. Mais ce matin, je me suis quand même faite belle même si je ne vais pas te voir. Je souris aux gens, de toutes mes dents. Aujourd’hui, je ne serai pas triste. Je mérite d’être heureuse. Un jour, quelqu’un m’aimera, de la même manière que j’apprendrai à aimer correctement. Ce ne sera pas aujourd’hui, mais je guérirai.

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