The truth about a situation

This week I took a time machine. Not intentionally but I stepped in, the doors closed and before I knew it I was feeling something I hadn't felt for nearly four years.
That feeling was the hurt you feel when you know someone is not being honest.

Back then, I spent 18months searching for clues (and finding them) checking things that didn't belong to me and obsessing about knowing everything. I became a tracker and I hunted.

When I was on the wrong track I felt it as strong as it did when I was on the right one. Sometimes nothing had to happen but I knew, deep down that somewhere a particular someone was having more fun than they were meant to me.

The clues lead to truth. Truth about a situation and truth about yourself. You learn not to take 'no' as an answer and you push and push for an answer until it eventually comes out with no sense of remorse, you wish that you could shove it back into the gap it fell from. You wish that they would choke on it. You wish that maybe, if you hadn't asked and set out on this course of of self-destruct then it wouldn't all actually be happening , that maybe you HAD got it wrong.

But I wasn't wrong. I was very right and I knew it.

I still have tracker mode set and this causes issues with trust. Something that I know, for a long time, I will never fully be able to give. The feeling that you are made to feel the world, a best friend and someone wanted for life, and then to know it has been repeated and duplicated else where is soul destroying.

I am in a better place to deal with this now, and although I time travelled through feelings, I know that I don't have to be part of it.

.... Yourself and No One Else

Just when I thought it was all going to be ok and I was finally being given a little break from the hard stuff, something explodes.

I haven’t felt like this for some time and I thought I had finally put it to bed, that I had tucked it in under a protective soft blanket and said goodnight.

But it looks like it has awoken and proceeded to get out of the wrong side of the bed. With its angry grumpy head it has come crashing back into my life.

It once told me I am far too nice for my own good, that I shouldn’t be willing to give it away so freely.

But what could I do? I gave it to people I thought I was meant to, the relationships which are held together by it and which depend on it.

I didn’t expect them to use it and treat it so poorly and as if it can be replaced without a thought.
And now it scratches at my insides and fills my head with doubt.

Now it stops me believing.

That I will ever use it again.

Somedays I love you

A shadow creeps
Through a once loved heart
It states your reasons why
Yet believes the failing truth
Lust burns within
The soul makes judgements
On heartbeat promises
Believe in trusting the truth
Trust believing
Hope for trust
Trust hope

Moments

We are strolling through Portobello Market. I am holding his hand, fingers clasped, it fits and feels better than the last hand I held.
We amble for hours, browsing antiques and stalls, salivating at the sights and smells of local produce.
Everyone is dressed in vintage clothing, eclectic styles and a sea of bright colours.
I spot a girl in red shoes and purple tights. Her shoes are gorgeous, she is beautiful.
I wish I had put something else on this morning, something bright instead of my jeans and big winter coat.
We pass a music stall, Dinah Washington sings about being Mad about a Boy. He laughs and finds it funny.
We stop and he pulls me to him and kisses me.
He tells me he loves me.
I don't know what to say back.
He smiles the warmest smile and strokes my fringe off my face.
He tells me that I mean the world to him.
I feel warm inside, I feel loved.
I can't find the words. I want to say it but I can't. I want to say that I love him too, that he gives me something that I have never had. But I am scared of giving again, trusting again. I am not sure I even trust my own feelings, so for now I give him what I can, a smile and tender loving kiss.
We are still stood with our arms around each other in the middle of the market, slightly swaying the music; the song has changed and he sings to me. He continues to sing as we head back through the vibrancy, hands still clasped, locked in a moment.