cara Esther
I have this cursed attitude of taking an engagement seriously, when in the end it doesn’t always seem like that for the other and I would like, at least once, to find myself on the other side.
Being able to cut the thread of the relationship, being able to break it with the same “ease” of men.
The story begins well, indeed great, he is madly in love and so am I.
Leaving for his job if first it was my hesitation then, once reassured by him, it almost doesn’t bother me anymore. AND 4/5 months away in a year if for a just cause, such as a job, they can be suffered. So it takes two and a half years to last, interspersed with departures and arrivals. A coexistence only of the weekend during his periods of presence on the mainland, and my desire to go further, expressed, understood, and also seemed shared by him.
Then one day he lands and he decides to dump me out of the blue. “Everything ends here” said Baglioni and so it was. According to him, he does not want a family (with you), children (with you) or cohabitation (with you), because he has decided, in solitude as a man who “never has to ask”, a life on a ship for several months with a more ambitious assignment.
Obviously this is what it says, being careful not to pronounce the subtext in parentheses. All surrounded by victim phrases such as: I feel like a coward. A perfect bumper.
I’m left, seduced and abandoned, who hasn’t called or heard from that day (4 months have already passed). After all, why should I call him? To hurt me? And then any attempt would be in vain in the face of such a clear will.
Today’s me would like to understand how do you believe in a love and then no more. What happens during that makes them back away? Wasn’t that a strong feeling? Was it all a big lie? How do they (men) cut and be reborn, while we shed bitter tears..
With love.
Esther Viola’s answer
The night passes, but only that. The rest you keep. Did you see, D.? Some find it easy to leave, others don’t. But that’s not the problem either, you could answer me. Feeling bad can also be endured, from time to time. What you hate about the end of love is that it skins you, makes you wake up the next day hypersensitive, sickly, weak. Living is no longer what you used to do, because you have lost what more or less defined you, the other.
Do you know how who to become? Those who know how to react passive-aggressively to the world, should anything happen, always have the weapon in hand of the «okay», forward to the next war.
The others, however? We are all the others. The scientific rethinkers, stirrs, rancorous collectors of bad memories and frustrations. To the battle cry «Look what they did to me, Poverammé».
Anti-melancholy, one should be. The always cheerful ones who invite them to the boat. We should know, but it doesn’t change anything anyway, that to suffer is only to give circumstances a gravity which the circumstances would not require. Every little pain today turns into a sincere “how stupid I was” in a while.
They don’t give us a medal, an award, the world doesn’t even realize it, that we’re starting over by putting together a thousand pieces.
Does anyone see us when we are disappointed, broken or hopeless? No, it only matters to us. To others we even seem stupid when love has become too much.
«Come on, you have nothing», this is the maximum of collaboration (but perhaps they are doing well, or one would indulge too much in that shortbreadness). Too much importance to love, we must stop. And do the math for the future, D.. Let’s start thinking that life works like this: ask yourself “what do I want?” and give yourself a selfish answer. The others – that other one – maybe another time.
Read all the episodes of Ester Viola’s column Defective Relationships here.
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