You know, a part of me does not want to write this post.
I do not want to ruin this ‘story’ that has kept me and all of you so engaged in the last month or so. Some of you have commented on what a ‘great storyteller’ I am. I guess, months from now, this will be one of those stories I whisper to girlfriends over a glass of wine. My lips stained with red, my cheeks red with drunk, my drunk finally tapping into my most raw, uncensored feelings.
Am I good storyteller? I don’t know about that. What I do know is that I am ruthless in the editing process. And so, inevitably, what I publish is only part of the real story. I never lie. I never over exaggerate. I try to stick to the facts. The facts, though, are always seen through my over romanticized eyes.
I leave out details, not to taunt you, but in part to protect myself. Some details, I figure, are not worth mentioning unless they serve some purpose; unless they add to a point I am trying to make. Other details, are not worth mentioning because truthfully? I don’t like them. I don’t like what they might reveal about me. I don’t like what they might show about him; about us. About the moment. Not only do I edit those details from the post I am writing, I delete them from my mind too.
As if they never happened.
I have spent the majority of the day going over all the details. In their truest, unedited form. I go over the way he has never, not once, initiated his desire to see me. I do that. I go over the way he warned me that he is trouble. How he told me that he had made his intentions very clear to the last girl he was with and that she misunderstood him. And that now he is an asshole. In her eyes. That he does not want to repeat his mistakes. He does not want to get hurt and he does not want to hurt me.
I remember that basking in his presence–high off of a real connection, an unparalleled chemistry–I heard what he said. Then, promptly dismissed it. Because I am different, together we are different, I thought. To him, I said, “I’m not naive. I know what I am getting myself into.”
The lies we tell ourselves are always more hurtful than the truth we do not want to hear.
The truth is that he had no intention of ever calling me, he said. The truth is that his affection in bed is normal, he said. The hundreds of kisses he planted on my face, my shoulders, my fingers and hands over the course of the night and day? Has got nothing to do with you, he implied.
The truth is that I fell for all the lines, for all the behaviour that benefited me. Then let myself fall into the moment and then–uncharacteristically–into his bed. Two days after giving myself to a man who only wanted me because of my persistent want for him, I am falling apart over all those lines that don’t benefit me.
But, I am falling apart ever so gracefully. There have been no tears; just an explosion of creative energy. There have been no passive-aggressive, cry for attention, late night messages to him; just a remarkable, detached silence. There have been no ‘convenient’ walks over to The Bar; just long, adrenaline fueled runs on the treadmill.
This is not to say that this is the end. The last time I heard from him, he suggested but did not initiate, that we meet for a coffee or food in the next day or two. Deep down, I know that this will never happen. Deep down, I want to delete this entire post, as if all those words of warning he said to me where never said; as if all those obvious cues that he is not that interested in me never happened.
Deep down, I want to still believe that I am just a little different from all the other girls he has bed. Deep down, I want to believe that he genuinely likes me. Deep down, I want to believe, really believe, in the story I have weaved here for you all, over the last month. And to tell you truth, right now, I almost believe it.
Because seriously? My hope?
It always dies last.
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sometimes we convince ourselves things can be different, or he didn’t really mean that. we’ve all done it. don’t beat yourself up – it happens to the best of us. especially when we really like someone or are emotionally attached in some way. i’m sorry the story had to end this way. but sometimes our hearts need to be broken so someone better can put the pieces back together.
Oh Hope that last line… Good Lord this blog is amazing.
I think hope is the most wonderful thing to have and to keep. Optimism is more important than anything. I’d rather be naive in my hope than cynical by nature.
I think the worst think in the world is to lose hope, to let this treachery of this world get to you…
To be able to keep believing in the best is a powerful skill to have. Sure, it can hurt like mad sometimes, but it is exponentially better than the maddening monotony of jadedness.
This is a touching post, Hope, because we’ve all been there, all deluded ourselves on purpose, and all kicked ourselves later.
But better to regret something you did than something you didn’t.
I haven’t cried for months. but this …
oh my goodness.
I’ll still be following. Whatever happens.
A wonderfully exquisite personality trait. One that, someday, someone will truly cherish.
You are a lovely writer, and you’re teaching me much about my own editing process. Thank you so much for that.
In the pool of human consciousness, hope floats. almost always. Even if it is dead, it floats. Because it is strapped to a life jacket. The same life jacket that keeps us going on. It is designed to float, or we’d all give up.
I feel for you, Hope. I am guilty of the same things. Hell, we all are. I stick with what I’ve said before…it’s better for you to have given it a shot and gotten let down than to never have tried and always wondered. I don’t know what to tell you to do. All I am thinking is big hugs!
Such eloquent, honest words. At the very least, no one can take them away.
Hope is the most beautiful, sustaining quality. Never lose it.
For the record, you are different than all those other girls. You are amazingly, truly unique and wonderful in so many ways. The depths of emotion your writing conveys is evidence of that. You are a soulful person, Hope – and like someone before me said, there is a person out there who will cherish that.
In the meantime, enjoy your connection with The Man for what it is/was/might become. Just enjoy. :)
Hope is so important to have and its so true, it floats even when nothing else in our life seems to be under water.
Haven’t we all been there, wanting to believe we are different. I’ve done it sooo many times. I agree with chasingparadise–its better to have given it a shot than a lifetime of what ifs.
Sending you big hugs!
We always want to believe. I don’t know if it’s the curse of being a girl, or being human, I’m not sure.
At least what you’re going through isn’t the nothing that you told us about before. At least you had a moment, and though it’s passed, and though it might yet come back again, at least you had one, had somethingm
I’ve been planning on get the word HOPE tattooed on me for the longest time. It’s such a strong, meaningful word.
You are a lovely writer though. Seriously.
Oh my dear. This is ….. lovely. And can I just say ‘ditto’ to everyone else’s comments here? You are brilliant.
We always want to believe it will be different for us. This time, it will be different. We know the facts, but we weave our own stories out of them. And usually? We get hurt. But it doesn’t stop us from doing it. Hope, you’re allowed to choose what you want to hear, choose what you want to reveal, and always be optimistic.
At worst, you’ll be disappointed. At best, you’ll be happier than you imagined. And that’s a hard risk to take. I’m proud of you for taking it.
I’m not sure whether it’s more important to respond to your art, or to what’s described in your art.
You are an artist: nobody can read you without feeling. All I can say, is that I bow to your skill.
As for the relationship, or lack of… those who love deepest are the most vulnerable. But they also are the ones who have the greatest capacity for joy. Good for you for separating dream from reality. And good for you have having a great heart.
You’ll do fine.
oh my…
how beautifully, and poignantly written. the last line. ahhh…my heart hurt when i read it.
some people might say, that there is not need to hurt or wonder so much for things that have no continuation.
i lived for five years with someone by my side who had no intention on ever making me his, i hurt, i cried i faught with my most loved people, cause i thought i was different. and apart from thinking i was different, i thought he thought i was different.
back then i thought why? how can it happen to me? why did i not see it, and why did i go ahead with all of it?
today i thank the lord for doing it all the way i did it. there is no other way of learning, no better way of experiencing and no stronger way of feeling.
you have not lost anything, but rather gained so much.
great post !!
What everyone else said :-)
But honestly, what you’ve gone through is something we all do. Rose coloured glasses fit everyone.
And I’m so glad that I finally had time to sit down and read you properly. You really do have a wonderful writing gift and we really appreciate you sharing it with us.
There with you in hope xx
You know what this guy is? Writing fodder. He is your stepping stone, the one that helped you step out of your feeling nothingness to feeling somethingness.
So really, it’s you that had the power all along. At the moment you feel like you fell for the lines and he has one over on you, but in time trust me you’ll look back on this day and realise it was you who was holding the best cards all along.
The Man never stood a chance! Stepping stone type people are not meant to be around for long, that’s precisely why they’re stepping stones, or else they’d be rocks or permanent fixtures in your life.
Hope maybe you don’t see it now but you were the one setting the rules here, he was the one without the power. You lost nothing and gained some creativity. Win win!
I’m almost sad for HIM.
I doubt he even realizes what he’s missing out on.
poignant, brilliant, aching, honest, true, inspiring, exceptional, lovely…
you and this post are all of these things.
i just got chills. even rereading this, i got chills. you are and still show to be such a wonderful storyteller, so human in your characteristics. so deserving of being treated unique and special. and i guess these snags? they’re part of life. because it wouldn’t be so great if we didn’t have those moments.. too.
Hope! With the words! The perfect words! My god.
And also: we have all been there. We have all hoped that, deep down, we were different from the others and that, deep down, he knew it too.
I will tell you that that’s exactly what happened with M. And you know how that turned out.
So, yes, hope.
goose bumps here, so beautifully written and SO understood…I think I could have written this post and I too don’t write things that I think just might ruin what others and more importantly I want to believe about myself. However, I think those things we don’t want to write are probably the most important for our healing and growth.
I know I say it all the time, but I cannot help it – I love your blog. Everything about it is so *real,* so human. Thank you for sharing your life with us.
Oh, Hope. This was so well written. It conveys a feeling I have all the time.
Even if things don’t work out with The Man, never lost hope. For me, I love your blog precisely because of that. Your hope dies last. And that gives me hope too.
a few words of inspiration:
“love shouldn’t make a beggar of one. i wouldn’t want love if i had to beg for it, to barter it or qualify it. and i should despise it if anyone ever begged for my love. love is something that must be given- it can’t be bought with words or pity, or even reason.”
-jacqueline susann
“there is nothing as deceptive as an obvious fact.”
sir arthur conan doyle
You know, reading this got me thinking…
Maybe you were deluding yourself… and maybe you weren’t. Maybe you saw something you really wanted and went for it, consequences, warnings, and bad timing be damned.
Absolutely nothing wrong with that at all.
Pingback: Unedited: Part Two « Hope dies last
This is our problem. We always think thatwhom we love are different and that our story will turn out to be different in the end.
Hope, Keep up your hope.
Reading your posts give me hope, H. No matter what happens with you, I can tell from listening to you that you have the strength to pick yourself up and start again <3