Maybe I don't have emotions, maybe I've got emotions. But I've long gone forgotten how it feels to love and be loved. Maybe it's my past, a past that's only lasted two weeks. Yes, it is the fact that I've never been lucky with love. To think of it, he is a very good example of a failed past, I thought as I opened my WhatsApp and went straight to his status with "I am over him" playing like a loud choir in my head. Thought I was over him, I mean, so I thought. Holding my phone with tears fighting their way out of my eyes as I watch him smile and clean the icing off her lips from their red velvet wedding cake, my heart went cold. Memories of how he'd clean my lips after each scoop of ice cream came crawling in. How could he do this to me? Wait, so she's been in the picture all along? As I tap to see what's next, now this is clear, a video of him saying his vows. I mean, this is something he told me he'd never wanted in his life, to be "Married." I mean, this was why we broke up, why I left, 8 years together and in two weeks here he is doing what he said he would never do "Tie a knot" be called a "Husband".
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Remi Arayo and writers in BookClub and other communities.
BY ROPE OR BY FEAR
A lot that comes with life, a lot that comes with running from ourselves. I have been running from myself, wanting to leave, wanting the best, wanting to move. But then they said to me, "Shall a man run from himself?" I looked up and said to them, "It's a myth." And then, with a smile, they said, "You can't run from yourself." I shook my head and said, "How can't I run from myself to save myself from myself?" Then they began to laugh, laughing at me. I bowed in shame and confusion. Then they said, "There's a way to save yourself with yourself, by yourself." So I raised my head, looked at their faces, and said to them, "You don't understand. I am running from myself to run from her. She haunts me each day. I can't sleep. She took my sleep. What do you think gave me insomnia? You think it came like a thief?" Then they said, "Who is she? And what does she want?" Now I laugh at them more, as I laugh at myself. Then I looked into their eyes and said, "Depression," with a faint smile. Now I asked them, "Why shouldn't I run from myself when she has taken away all that I feel, all that I know? She has taken control of myself, and I have fought to save myself from her, times I can't remember. But she keeps coming back stronger than the last. Her defense, I admire." I smiled and asked, "Do we ever get over depression?" They looked in silence, with nothing to say, exactly what I expected. Then they said, after so much silence, "Why didn't you ask for help?" Not surprised, not perplexed by their question. It's what everyone asks you when you fight her. So I said, "Sometimes the world is a circle. I looked for help by myself and within myself, fighting someone I couldn't see. I knew what she hated was my happiness. So, to take a break from her, I pretended to be happy. You know the saying, 'Fake it till you make it' so I began to fake happiness maybe eventually I would forget I was faking and she would let me go, I thought it would scare her. So, from different parties to drinking, to long conversations with people, I just never wanted to be alone. That was her favorite time to play with me when I am all by myself. So, running from things she knew to control, to numbness of my body. I smiled this time with so much pain, then I said, "you know what, it didn't help. Instead, it made me worse. It drew me closer to her. She became my comforter, somebody I needed to fight. She knew how to get me, and she did. "Then I ran for refuge in the rope I had tied unto my brown ceiling fan. I picked a chair, then right under the fan, I wrap the rope around my neck with regrets running through my mind. I was ready to lose the battle, ready to let her win. I mean, it was all she wanted. But then I thought, thought of those that loved me, thought of the pains they'd face, thought of how winning her would feel if I could just give myself another chance, another chance to win our fight. So, I let myself loose with tears in my eyes. Immediately, they asked, "why didn't you tell anyone? They could've helped?" I looked away from them to my coffee I had barely even touched, took a sip, and replied, "I knew I needed help from someone. I knew I did. I knew I couldn't fight her myself, but I feared to ask for help. I feared to reach out. I feared what people would say. I feared the stigma. I feared being a burden to those I love. But would you blame me?" I asked them, as they looked at me in pity. It's one thing I didn't like, but would you blame me? So they asked, "would you rather die by ropes and fear than seek help?" I bowed in silence, entangled by fear and confusion, so I asked, "won't the stigma kill faster than the ropes?" So, they looked at me, smiled, and said, “how would you know if you don’t try?
By Remi Arayoabout a year ago in BookClub
Self Help: Grifters' Gospel
On Self-Help, Snake Oil, and the Illusion of Change Psychology professionals and students can be imagined on two opposite sides of a line called self-help books: likely a larger group opposes pop-science and step-by-step manuals filled with talk of success, journaling, and not giving a f**k; others love them, but they aren’t many.
By Avocado Nunzella BSc (Psych) -- M.A.P 4 days ago in BookClub
The Art of Digital Intentionality: Reclaiming
In the modern era, the average person checks their smartphone dozens of times a day. We live in a state of perpetual connectivity, where the boundaries between our physical lives and our digital interfaces have become increasingly blurred. While technology has provided us with unprecedented access to information and global community, it has also introduced a unique set of psychological challenges: fragmented attention, decision fatigue, and the subtle erosion of presence.
By Chris Swain3 days ago in BookClub
Comments (1)
I feel the pain and heartache while reading your post. It's quite sobering.