Please don’t take offense to what I will write, on the contrary fill your cup if you wish.

Life isn’t what everybody tells you it is. It’s downright revolting in fact. You make friends and they stop being your friends, you meet lovers and you cry more than you smile, you take charge and you don’t like the outcome. Nevertheless, these are the moments you wouldn’t change one bit.

In most of my teenage love affairs I’ve been called a sinner; I’ve been called a saint. I’ve been put upon a pedestal and have been quickly struck down to be dragged in the dirt. I can think of days where living my life was all I’ve wanted to do, I wouldn’t think of tomorrow. Years went by, another winter; another summer, misty memories of days that are no more. Lovers and friends have surrounded me and left me and I still feel a void I cannot fix. You learn with the years that you can’t stop rain from falling down; you can’t make the world go ‘round, stop the sun from burning holes into your eyes and most certainly you can’t stop an achy-breaky heart.

Story of my life? A battle versus nature and nurture was I born cute and vindictive or did society make me that way? I go back and forth debating. I am self-destructive, I turn solutions into problems. I am difficult, I am self-sufficient, I am an orchid, and I am a snake. Like it or not I am headstrong, arrogant and imposing. Yet, how can a looser ever win? I’ve had my doubts on love and I will always have my fears, I’ve had my battles and my wars as well, but a bottle has never stood in my way, until this day. Giving up and no longer arguing isn’t a sign of defeat for someone with silent anger. It’s simply the defeat of a foolish heart over a reasonable head. By description I should be Midas in reverse, but I stand. Maybe I’ve been living someone else’s life.

You meet this one guy, and the stars go blue, your mind reels in the many ideas your little girl’s soul had been fishing for. The breathless charm, the elusive smile, you can’t help it if your tenderness grow; you break your bones and your love grows.

Realize; life is a paradox and it doesn’t make much sense. You can bless the broken road that led you to his arms or you can close up to the cruelty, disappointments and stitches you carefully sowed back.

Some describe love as an open hearted perpetual bliss; I describe love as platinum shackles you chose to wear. I’ve never been the type to kneel down and pray, thinking that all of my writings were prayers in their own forms. It’s a defense mechanism “ be sure of who you are, be sure of what you want and don’t give yourself fully” with happiness there’s still a sickening feeling, an unfaltering incurable disease that eats away your heart, no, it doesn’t kill you; it opens up your eyes while the pain is gutting you open. Friend, foe or lover it all ends up the same way, one heart is a piñata it doesn’t matter what he sings, what he says or what he does. There’s just you and how much pain you can cause to yourself. It’s then you think you need to keep your mouth shut, clip your wings and barricade your mind.

No. You are who you are, as were Cleopatra, Delilah and Mata Hari. So you try and make another stand but it’s a heartfelt one…it goes like this

“Since I love you and that I was childish enough to envision our future; I thought it would be best that I had told you that alcohol scared me, because I’ve had horrible traumatizing experiences with it. I was hoping you’d understand and make an effort, because you say that you love me just as much. If we have to be together side by side and for the best, I think that if there’s something in me that should be bettered it’s your duty to tell me, assuming you want what’s best for me; the same way I only want what’s best for you. Please understand my apprehensions. When a man takes more than 3 glasses I panic. I’m not trying to change you fully. But I will not fight against a bottle. You say you love me, and I expect you to understand it. I loose too much if I loose you but it doesn’t mean I can’t afford to. It’s not because I love you that I shouldn’t tell you what I think. I’m waiting for you to just tell me that our relationship is not worth a fight against a battle that it’s worth much more”

And the heart wrenching answer is “(…) Look Emmanuelle, I hope you can make you mind so we can both move with our lives. My patience is running thin (…) I’m not going to stop drinking because you think it’s going to be trouble in the future when you don’t know that for sure. You want to stay together, fine, you don’t? Then don’t Emmanuelle. I’m sick of this; I know how to behave around you. You’re asking me to quit drinking and I don’t want to. I don’t want to talk about this anymore because I’ve been nice to you. Think all you want. Have your break. It’s on you Emmanuelle, you started this, so end it your way”

There. You chose between the bottle and me. No, it’s not on me because I told you what I wanted.

Right now, your world is in square one, which is “Square unfair”

You go for a 2 hour long jog during the night, hoping you won’t get mugged on the way, but who cares? They’ll just exchange you for a bottle of gin anyway; no maybe Whiskey…or Vodka. You think you need support; you call that one guy, the one that you never fully let go of. The one you can call your first love , your friend and confidant, the one who still has feelings for you but, good riddance, is with somebody else; except he’s no support at all, to you he ‘s cold and detached at the moment.

Someone just chose a bottle over you. And the man who hasn’t let go of you for the past 4 years knows it, then again, says none of the comforting soothing words you’d like to hear, or think he should say.

Your legs are jelly, your head hurts, you’re out of breath and your muscles burn, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. If you stop running, if you don’t hear the stomping of your feet against the pavement, if you heart stops beating as fast, then maybe you’ll remember, maybe you’ll remember that 30 minutes ago your self esteem crashed . 30 minutes ago he was your boyfriend; he was the diamond ring on your finger and the crest-pro smile on your face. Now he’s the bastard you’re disappointed in. The bastard who maybe, wasn’t worth it.

You’re back at square one, XXX has a girlfriend but he loves you and CPO has a bottle that he chose over you.

So what’s the sinking feeling?

The fact that you saw it coming? That you didn’t get a mature compromise? The fact that life has thrown you so many curves and you still don’t know how to swerve? That this side of the coin was less shiny? That he didn’t choose you? That you didn’t get love? No, the sinking feeling is the fact that you literally just fell in a dent on the sidewalk. Deciding you’ve had enough, you get mad, you get strong. You wipe your hands, shake it off and head for home.

Its dark, your family didn’t wait up. You can’t share your problems and you’re in above your head. You leave him? You stay with? You take your Zyprexa pills and start noticing that the world is no longer Goliath, you are no longer David.

You’re a candle in the hurricane. Alone and helpless; you know that feeling, you feel like you’ve lost your fight But you remember your sister said

“ When push comes to shove, you taste what you’re made of , you might bend till you break ‘cause it’s all you can take , but every time you get up and get back in the race one more small piece of you starts to fall in place”

Besides, he made his choice.

You slip under your covers and know that you’ll wake up in tear drops falling down like the rain. This is how a heart breaks.