Broken Bella Donna

{January 14, 2012}   Midgets?

I just read the word widgets as midgets.

Feeling a little lonely and unloved at the minute. Spending too much time thinking about stuff I shouldn’t be dwelling on. People I shouldn’t be dwelling on. Reading flattering messages from men who mean nothing to me, just to remind myself that I’m still desirable.

It’s such a stupid circle. I find myself desiring attention and orchestrating chances to gain it, from men that it’s inappropriate to expect it from… non threatening men… technically… until it becomes threatening and freaks me out. The older I get, the more complicated this all seems and I thought it was meant to be the other way around?

Most of the time I don’t feel lonely and I know that by being single, I can be my own person – no one to answer to, I can flirt, spend my own money, do what I want and I KNOW that in a relationship, I’d feel smothered and irritated. And aren’t I so STRONG that I can do this and not feel like I need to be vindicated by others??? And that other 10% the time I feel miserable, like I’m washed up, on the shelf, not worth the bother.

Just feeling that 10% a bit today.

My dog is going through some health problems. Problems that are similar to a massive cancer scare we had not all that long ago. Reminds me that he isn’t infallible, and that I will lose him one day – my pets are the only things allowed under my skin. I have a feeling this current crop could well end up the last I have… for all the joy they give me, that understanding that they too will hurt me is enough to tarnish it.

I usually fancy myself glass half full in life – I like to hope for the best. But when it comes to matters of the heart I am definitely glass half empty…

I am still eating breakfast every day. Go me!

{October 9, 2011}   Death.

The hardest part about losing you, is night, when you are so close yet so impossibly far away.

I hate the first rain… I hate knowing that you’re getting wet. That I can’t take you, and dry you off, and cuddle you and make it all better. Christ, I even felt like clawing the soil to get you back, just to touch you one last time, and to take you somewhere more comfortable… it shatters me inside, even though I know it is part and parcel of life and death, returning to the soil… I could handle it so much better knowing you were dry. And comfortable, I suppose, or as comfortable as death can be. Then again, I think we are where we are now because death WAS the more comfortable option.

I want to take you back and kiss it better and apologise… all the apologies… always feeling sorry. That it wasn’t enough or wasn’t better or…

I stand by your grave and wish you good night, as I would have had you been with me, by my side where you belonged. Then I move into the dark shadows where no one can see my tears, and look up to the black sky, pick out a star and do it again… I don’t know what exactly I believe in, but for now, this makes me feel better.

I haven’t cried today.

I miss you. I love you still. Life is lonelier without you in it, but I know you’re better off where you are now. For some reason this doesn’t hurt like I thought it would, but it still hurts.


et cetera