Once the children have gone to sleep and I feel the sexual energy brewing, I go all sheepish, boyish, awkward, smiley. There's this fear - I'm not allowed to want to have sex.
When I was four or five, I lived in a secluded coastal town in outback Australia. This is true-blue, fair-dinkum aussi land. Catholic. Brim and firestone territory. I grew up believing in hell, burning on a stake for eternity, that kind of shit.
Still, a boy will always be a boy. I took interest in a younger girl across the road. One day, I played you-show-me-yours-if-I-show-you-mine behind the caravan in her parent's drive way. I remember the shame of mine. How does a boy end up with shame at such a young age?
Next I was gaimer. I took her under the sheets in my bed, put a plastic bag on each hand and went exploring. I don't remember anything visually. I just remember the fear, the noise of my brother running around and those plastic bags - what was that all about, was I playing doctor?
The next time I walked over to her place, the mother came out. She shouted at me. She told me that I'm disgusting. She told me that if I ever come close to her daughter again, she'll call the police. I ran across the road, hoping to take refuge at a friend's place, a fat boy from an obese Irish family. The fat mother came out and said that if she ever hears about me touching her daughters, I would get a huge walluping (and believe me, I was witness to the use of the fat father's thick belt hitting pristine flesh).
And so I stood in the middle of the pot-holed, red sanded street and the dust settled around me. Full of fear. The prison was down one end of the street. The Aboriginal shanty town was up the other end. On both sides were angry mothers who made me feel that there was something wrong with me. The idealism and religousness of my parents frightened me even more - hell was a small walk away. I had no where to go.
I have travelled the rest of my life with my child standing in the middle of that street. I still believe there is something perverted about wanting to enjoy a woman's flesh. I still believe that I'm a bad boy, in the Hitler kind of way. It's not true, my life has shown me that, but emotionally I'm still on that street feeling that I did something really wrong.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Arabic bottle opener
For my birthday, we went to camp in a national park at the northern edge of Israel, a beautiful area right on mediterranean located in the ruins of an Arabic town from the 13th century.
I was expecting Sunday to be quiet but instead there was a nice crowd of Christian Arabs who came for a restful day at the beach. I write "nice" because I was pleasantly surprised. I still hold a prejudice of the Arabic culture, believing that the people are a tad on the grotesque side for my more sensitive soul. Not really sure why, nor how much I am influenced by way that culture is protrayed in the Western media. I just sense an easier access to violence, so I conclude that these are not nice people. However the families who sat having picnics around us were quiet and orderly. Even the male group of testosterone-pumped gym-pumped men running after each other on the beech was cute (Greek like) - they even had the curtiousy to ask us if it was ok to put a bit of music on at night. Maybe "Christian" is the key point here, I know that's what people would like to believe. But as a baptised Christian who doesn't believe anymore, I don't want to give that much credit to Jesus. I think that affluence brings better manners and that's what Israel brings to the "friendly" Arabs who ended up on this side of the territories. Reminds me of one day I sat in the train and listened to two business men talking Arabic in the seats across the aisle. It suddenly seemed to me that I was back in Switzerland listening to two business men speaking Swiss german on the train. It just seemed natural, even if there remains a current of ambivalence between the "races". Israel's not quite there - give it one or two hundred years. But based on this Sunday experience in the park, I could have been forgiven for thinking that peace had finally made it to this land.
All that to say that when I discovered that I had left the bottle opener at home, I needed to ask an Arab for help! But I was out of luck - no wine drinkers there. I returned to our table and contemplated the bottle longingly. I love wine. I was trying hard to think of novel ways to get the cork out when the father from the neighboring family came over with his two daughers and handed me a can of beer. I said, no, really, I have beer of my own. He said, with a charming, mischevious smile, that he can open the bottle without anything. I decided to entertain his idea. He wrapped the bottle in a towel and gave it a bang on the table. OK! Now I'm getting the idea, he thinks this is champaigne. I tell him it's wine. He bangs again. And again. You can see that there is a bit of foam bubbling just below the cork and he tries to make me believe that the cork is moving, but I watch it every time the bottle hits the table and I don't see it move even a fraction of a millimeter. I warn him that this is French wine; maybe the trick only works on sunburnt Israeli wine. He bangs the bottle one more time. And suddenly there is a thick pool of red spreading over the table, just like blood seeps out of a hollywoodian human who has fallen from a great height. I felt the taste of wine on my tongue drain to despair. Boy was I looking forward to that. And I'm zen. After two days of sheer hard work camping with a one-year old daughter and an almost five year old daughter who has decided that her name is Michael and that she is three years old and wants to go home every 10 minutes, after all of that, I've found complete quietness. Not even the hint of anger. Just a laugh, a hand-shake, a goodbye and the relief that it wasn't my towel that the bottle had shattered in.
Ten minutes later, his daughters came over with a half-finished bottle of Jack Daniels black-label whiskey. I'm not really a whiskey drinker, but I accept the token of good will. My first brush with a civilized Arabic bottle opener.
I was expecting Sunday to be quiet but instead there was a nice crowd of Christian Arabs who came for a restful day at the beach. I write "nice" because I was pleasantly surprised. I still hold a prejudice of the Arabic culture, believing that the people are a tad on the grotesque side for my more sensitive soul. Not really sure why, nor how much I am influenced by way that culture is protrayed in the Western media. I just sense an easier access to violence, so I conclude that these are not nice people. However the families who sat having picnics around us were quiet and orderly. Even the male group of testosterone-pumped gym-pumped men running after each other on the beech was cute (Greek like) - they even had the curtiousy to ask us if it was ok to put a bit of music on at night. Maybe "Christian" is the key point here, I know that's what people would like to believe. But as a baptised Christian who doesn't believe anymore, I don't want to give that much credit to Jesus. I think that affluence brings better manners and that's what Israel brings to the "friendly" Arabs who ended up on this side of the territories. Reminds me of one day I sat in the train and listened to two business men talking Arabic in the seats across the aisle. It suddenly seemed to me that I was back in Switzerland listening to two business men speaking Swiss german on the train. It just seemed natural, even if there remains a current of ambivalence between the "races". Israel's not quite there - give it one or two hundred years. But based on this Sunday experience in the park, I could have been forgiven for thinking that peace had finally made it to this land.
All that to say that when I discovered that I had left the bottle opener at home, I needed to ask an Arab for help! But I was out of luck - no wine drinkers there. I returned to our table and contemplated the bottle longingly. I love wine. I was trying hard to think of novel ways to get the cork out when the father from the neighboring family came over with his two daughers and handed me a can of beer. I said, no, really, I have beer of my own. He said, with a charming, mischevious smile, that he can open the bottle without anything. I decided to entertain his idea. He wrapped the bottle in a towel and gave it a bang on the table. OK! Now I'm getting the idea, he thinks this is champaigne. I tell him it's wine. He bangs again. And again. You can see that there is a bit of foam bubbling just below the cork and he tries to make me believe that the cork is moving, but I watch it every time the bottle hits the table and I don't see it move even a fraction of a millimeter. I warn him that this is French wine; maybe the trick only works on sunburnt Israeli wine. He bangs the bottle one more time. And suddenly there is a thick pool of red spreading over the table, just like blood seeps out of a hollywoodian human who has fallen from a great height. I felt the taste of wine on my tongue drain to despair. Boy was I looking forward to that. And I'm zen. After two days of sheer hard work camping with a one-year old daughter and an almost five year old daughter who has decided that her name is Michael and that she is three years old and wants to go home every 10 minutes, after all of that, I've found complete quietness. Not even the hint of anger. Just a laugh, a hand-shake, a goodbye and the relief that it wasn't my towel that the bottle had shattered in.
Ten minutes later, his daughters came over with a half-finished bottle of Jack Daniels black-label whiskey. I'm not really a whiskey drinker, but I accept the token of good will. My first brush with a civilized Arabic bottle opener.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Just let go!
I woke up to the sound of Hopi hitting the floor in the kitchen. She didn't cry too long so I stayed in bed! I guess I got about 3 hours sleep after my last post. I used to go through major panic attacks over lack of sleep, but now I take it in my stride. Such be the fruits of early morning training with kids. This also makes International business travel to the States comfortable.
The left side of my belly vibrated away with the remnants of last night's fear. I worked a few techniques to make the energies flow better. When I sat up, I knew the second part of a decision that I started to make one week ago. One week ago I realized that she wasn't going to stop this woman experience because of my hurting. She says she has this open question about woman, which of course I interpreted to mean that she would announce any day now that she intends to go to live with a woman. My decision one week ago was to admit that I have no idea what she means by this open question. And I don't think she has much of an idea either. So instead of going around in circles trying to get clarity, I decided to accept that I can't control the future and to let it be. That helped a lot, and a friend gave me the rational: if I was starting to experiment with homosexual behavior, would I know immediately which way I wanted to go? Probably not. This morning's decision was along the same lines: I probably put the words "you're not attracted to me" in her mouth. What is really going on for her? I have no idea and I suspect that it's not so clear for her either. So why beat about the bush trying to understand something that can't be understood clearly? Better off letting it be. Better off not trying to control the situation. Better off living without too much thinking.
I had no love in me this morning. She tried to be close when she saw my state. She asked for me to be open. I told her I'm hurt by her and I can't be open. I don't know how I learnt to be so direct and accepting of my moods. Probably from living with a really moody woman!
I did the shopping and that picked me up. I love being on my own these days. I can talk it out in the car. I can shout in the car. And that transforms everything. That's the great breakthrough in my therapy. The thing that reduced the anxieties to virtually nothing. Evacuate the anger, don't surpress it. For some time I needed the anger to go to the person, but now it looks like I've learnt that it's enough to just get it out for my own auditian.
This afternoon, I was back to normal, feeling close to her. Experimenting with this new awareness of sexual energy in the body. Did it get me anywhere? No, but it felt good and free.
Tomorrow I'm 41. Not that I care about birthdays, such an artificial concept. I always get out of town so the family can't make a fuss over it. Tomorrow we're traveling up north to camp on the beach. It's the worst year of my life. And it's forcing me to learn to let go, to stop trying to control what others are thinking. I don't think she knows more about the future than I do. She definitely doesn't know where she stands sexually, but for the rest she's really clear, I'm the one. So if I can make a wish for this year, it's to be sexually brave and learn from my mistakes instead of living with a wounded ego every time I get rejected.
He's a shot of Sambuca to me, lit in my mouth, gulped down and delivery to the brain 5 seconds later. I made it to 41. I never really thought I would make it after going through all those years of anxiety. Goodbye anxieties. I don't need you any more. I've got me in the driving seat. And now I'm letting the car drive itself because I've had enough going around in circles trying to understand what is going on with her!
The left side of my belly vibrated away with the remnants of last night's fear. I worked a few techniques to make the energies flow better. When I sat up, I knew the second part of a decision that I started to make one week ago. One week ago I realized that she wasn't going to stop this woman experience because of my hurting. She says she has this open question about woman, which of course I interpreted to mean that she would announce any day now that she intends to go to live with a woman. My decision one week ago was to admit that I have no idea what she means by this open question. And I don't think she has much of an idea either. So instead of going around in circles trying to get clarity, I decided to accept that I can't control the future and to let it be. That helped a lot, and a friend gave me the rational: if I was starting to experiment with homosexual behavior, would I know immediately which way I wanted to go? Probably not. This morning's decision was along the same lines: I probably put the words "you're not attracted to me" in her mouth. What is really going on for her? I have no idea and I suspect that it's not so clear for her either. So why beat about the bush trying to understand something that can't be understood clearly? Better off letting it be. Better off not trying to control the situation. Better off living without too much thinking.
I had no love in me this morning. She tried to be close when she saw my state. She asked for me to be open. I told her I'm hurt by her and I can't be open. I don't know how I learnt to be so direct and accepting of my moods. Probably from living with a really moody woman!
I did the shopping and that picked me up. I love being on my own these days. I can talk it out in the car. I can shout in the car. And that transforms everything. That's the great breakthrough in my therapy. The thing that reduced the anxieties to virtually nothing. Evacuate the anger, don't surpress it. For some time I needed the anger to go to the person, but now it looks like I've learnt that it's enough to just get it out for my own auditian.
This afternoon, I was back to normal, feeling close to her. Experimenting with this new awareness of sexual energy in the body. Did it get me anywhere? No, but it felt good and free.
Tomorrow I'm 41. Not that I care about birthdays, such an artificial concept. I always get out of town so the family can't make a fuss over it. Tomorrow we're traveling up north to camp on the beach. It's the worst year of my life. And it's forcing me to learn to let go, to stop trying to control what others are thinking. I don't think she knows more about the future than I do. She definitely doesn't know where she stands sexually, but for the rest she's really clear, I'm the one. So if I can make a wish for this year, it's to be sexually brave and learn from my mistakes instead of living with a wounded ego every time I get rejected.
He's a shot of Sambuca to me, lit in my mouth, gulped down and delivery to the brain 5 seconds later. I made it to 41. I never really thought I would make it after going through all those years of anxiety. Goodbye anxieties. I don't need you any more. I've got me in the driving seat. And now I'm letting the car drive itself because I've had enough going around in circles trying to understand what is going on with her!
Thursday, June 14, 2012
What's the point?
It's two in the morning. The number of sleepless nights accumulates. She sleeps, no matter what. But I keep going, hoping to find some consolation, something to make me believe that this will turn out well. I want to know NOW NOW NOW. I can't let go until I have this one worked out or until I slip into sleep between the crack of two un-answerable arguments or until my heart gives in and the love creeps back. There is no solution at this late hour, so Iogic, and Budha's teachings, say to let it go. But I'm wrestling with myself and my belly quivers and the bouts of anger wrench me from bed. Enough, I can't sleep. I'm hurting bad. There is no solution in this state, except to run. But for seven years I have been unable to run and I don't understand why. I used to run easily, but this time I'm not. I wish I could. I don't understand why. When is enough enough? Never. Right now, it's enough. Right now I've had enough. And the answer is still never. I hate it. I hate that I have no control over the answer.
I have lived what is clinically called a "sexless" couple for seven years. She always rejected me in that way. At first I thought that it was because I have so much fear. And when I did finally make it inside her, there was pain like I have never known. My pain, her pain? I have no idea. It definitely didn't feel like mine, at least not emotional pain having sex. Then again, there is enough pain in my life, so maybe it was mine. I sensed her lack of interest, her limpness, from the beginning. Maybe that's what was painful - I already knew what was coming.
I moved the world to be close to her. I was so in love with her. From the moment I set eyes on her. And for once in my life, I think that I saw the person, as opposed to the self love. I knew that I was heading for trouble and this is probably why I put a big rock in my heart when I changed continents to live with her. We started our personal evolving together, our spiritual growth. But at first we were a mess. I have no idea why we stayed together. She pushed me away sexually every time I came close to her. She would shudder and turn away. I would freeze, not knowing what to do, what I did wrong. She would sleep. I would lie awake, body full of fear. Eventually she threw me out. That's why I had so much fear. I broke down weeping a dog's bark and for some reason, probably pity, she kept me. I remember that I had my ticket booked to return and when she kept me, a small voice said, go anyway and let the wind decide things. If I went, that was it. So I stayed. I wanted her too much. Why? Only the soul knows. I've always had the strength to leave. But not this time. I wish someone would tell me why.
Nothing really improved until just before my daughter Zoe was conceived. I discovered real therapy and it revolutionized my life. Have my own opinion. That was the message. I changed many things in my life on the wings of those words (well, after one of those heart-wrenching therapy sessions that you only see in movies). And then I let anger lose in her face for the first time, probably the first time in my life, and suddenly my heart was full of love. That's how Zoe was created.
She said parenting was our connection. I guess I'm a great father, but I don't really see why that helped her love me more. Or maybe I can see it but refuse it because I wanted her physical love. I actually got tired of being hurt every time I made an advance so I resolved to reduce my sexual desire. That made life easier but after some time, the frustration showed. Frustration made me less subtle in my advances and so she took the sex away completely. That was the crisis. It happened after my first business trip since having Zoe. I came back and she told me that she had discovered she could cope on her own and probably didn't need me. The shit hit the fan. We argued so much. Expressing anger took the anxieties away. It made us closer, much to my amazement. I started massaging her in the evening and that is how Hopi was created, another beautiful and rare sex moment in our lives together.
We left sex hanging in the wind after Hopi was created. Not that it mattered - life was full of other complications such as unemployment, new job, birth, moving house, bad job, new job. It wasn't until she announced to me that she was seeing a woman that I woke up. She always said that she had this thing for woman, but given the kind of violence that she experienced from her father in her childhood and a possible rape incident with arab boys when she was ten, I kind of figured that it was more of an escape than anything else. I actually handled it very well the night she announced it. A week later I started exploding. And I started going through the horrible roller-coaster of feeling hurt, despair and the high waves of love.
She gave me the most beautiful sex of my life. And that was a month ago. My heart was full of so much love and physical desire. And it keeps on being beat down. Dealing with the hurt and jealousies of the love affair going on under my nose. Feeling neglected. She blocks any sexual energy unless we're in a situation where it can never go to sex. My heart breaks. I start to trust less. She won't stop the affair for me. I don't want to deprive her of this important experience. I finally bring all my anger and she agrees to see a sex therapist, she who loathes the talking therapies. Then I understand how open this question of woman is and my fear puts me in the movie where she might leave me any moment now. So I tell her to sort herself out first. She's hurt and when she's hurt, all the doors are closed for a week at least.
Finally tonight I get the sex therapist back on the table because I don't see how else this is going to work. And now I'm tormented. She admits that she's not attracted to me. That blows my ego away, especially after all these years of rejection. What's the point of a therapy if your woman isn't attracted to you while meanwhile she's exploring her sexuality else where with a woman? Is it just me or is it something deeper going on here? She's had more passion for other men, but she hides too much to know what to extract from that admission - we all hold onto some sexual experiences in the past where somehow we were different. Still, my gut screams. I can't stand the feeling knowing that she's not attracted to me. It would be better to be thrown out than kept as a mouse to toy with. She says, get over it, we both have our touchy child sexual histories that makes us bang our heads against each other and we can work on it. And I felt positive about seeing the therapist last week. But tonight I keep on hearing it: she's not attracted to me sexually. Not that there is anything new in this admission. I remember when we were fighting two years ago before Hopi was created, she even admitted that she didn't like my uncircumcised dick! I have no idea why I keep on going and I have no idea why she keeps on insisting with me when she knows that she can find something more suitable than me. Why struggle so much? Because I'm an amazing father? Can't be. I hope not - I don't want her staying with me for that. I want her to stay with me because she loves me and she wants me physically.
When is enough enough? When there are no more lessons to learn? I have one more lesson to learn (who am I kidding, I have thousands). Maybe this one is the hardest. When I was a boy, I got into trouble for playing you-show-me-yours-if-I-show-you-mine. Police trouble. I was in a small Catholic village, so you can understand how this didn't go down too well. I carry the fear to this day. If my woman brings sex, then I'm fine. But I don't know how to take my sexual energy and excite my woman. I always did it indirectly, meekly. She doesn't stand for that. What do I need to learn? To bring my sexuality.
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate that life doesn't ever let up on me. I feel so far far away from the love and the joy I felt making love to her a month ago. Once we're in it, we're good. But getting there is next to impossible. She ignores and I frustrate until I can't stand it any longer.
And now I exhaust myself worrying how much longer this is going to last. I cried so much today. And no-one can do anything about it because it's still not enough to run. Something deep inside wants to believe that we can make something out of this. Something deep inside wants to be back inside her. I love her when I'm there. I feel strong.
So close and yet so far away. I hope we get there.
I have lived what is clinically called a "sexless" couple for seven years. She always rejected me in that way. At first I thought that it was because I have so much fear. And when I did finally make it inside her, there was pain like I have never known. My pain, her pain? I have no idea. It definitely didn't feel like mine, at least not emotional pain having sex. Then again, there is enough pain in my life, so maybe it was mine. I sensed her lack of interest, her limpness, from the beginning. Maybe that's what was painful - I already knew what was coming.
I moved the world to be close to her. I was so in love with her. From the moment I set eyes on her. And for once in my life, I think that I saw the person, as opposed to the self love. I knew that I was heading for trouble and this is probably why I put a big rock in my heart when I changed continents to live with her. We started our personal evolving together, our spiritual growth. But at first we were a mess. I have no idea why we stayed together. She pushed me away sexually every time I came close to her. She would shudder and turn away. I would freeze, not knowing what to do, what I did wrong. She would sleep. I would lie awake, body full of fear. Eventually she threw me out. That's why I had so much fear. I broke down weeping a dog's bark and for some reason, probably pity, she kept me. I remember that I had my ticket booked to return and when she kept me, a small voice said, go anyway and let the wind decide things. If I went, that was it. So I stayed. I wanted her too much. Why? Only the soul knows. I've always had the strength to leave. But not this time. I wish someone would tell me why.
Nothing really improved until just before my daughter Zoe was conceived. I discovered real therapy and it revolutionized my life. Have my own opinion. That was the message. I changed many things in my life on the wings of those words (well, after one of those heart-wrenching therapy sessions that you only see in movies). And then I let anger lose in her face for the first time, probably the first time in my life, and suddenly my heart was full of love. That's how Zoe was created.
She said parenting was our connection. I guess I'm a great father, but I don't really see why that helped her love me more. Or maybe I can see it but refuse it because I wanted her physical love. I actually got tired of being hurt every time I made an advance so I resolved to reduce my sexual desire. That made life easier but after some time, the frustration showed. Frustration made me less subtle in my advances and so she took the sex away completely. That was the crisis. It happened after my first business trip since having Zoe. I came back and she told me that she had discovered she could cope on her own and probably didn't need me. The shit hit the fan. We argued so much. Expressing anger took the anxieties away. It made us closer, much to my amazement. I started massaging her in the evening and that is how Hopi was created, another beautiful and rare sex moment in our lives together.
We left sex hanging in the wind after Hopi was created. Not that it mattered - life was full of other complications such as unemployment, new job, birth, moving house, bad job, new job. It wasn't until she announced to me that she was seeing a woman that I woke up. She always said that she had this thing for woman, but given the kind of violence that she experienced from her father in her childhood and a possible rape incident with arab boys when she was ten, I kind of figured that it was more of an escape than anything else. I actually handled it very well the night she announced it. A week later I started exploding. And I started going through the horrible roller-coaster of feeling hurt, despair and the high waves of love.
She gave me the most beautiful sex of my life. And that was a month ago. My heart was full of so much love and physical desire. And it keeps on being beat down. Dealing with the hurt and jealousies of the love affair going on under my nose. Feeling neglected. She blocks any sexual energy unless we're in a situation where it can never go to sex. My heart breaks. I start to trust less. She won't stop the affair for me. I don't want to deprive her of this important experience. I finally bring all my anger and she agrees to see a sex therapist, she who loathes the talking therapies. Then I understand how open this question of woman is and my fear puts me in the movie where she might leave me any moment now. So I tell her to sort herself out first. She's hurt and when she's hurt, all the doors are closed for a week at least.
Finally tonight I get the sex therapist back on the table because I don't see how else this is going to work. And now I'm tormented. She admits that she's not attracted to me. That blows my ego away, especially after all these years of rejection. What's the point of a therapy if your woman isn't attracted to you while meanwhile she's exploring her sexuality else where with a woman? Is it just me or is it something deeper going on here? She's had more passion for other men, but she hides too much to know what to extract from that admission - we all hold onto some sexual experiences in the past where somehow we were different. Still, my gut screams. I can't stand the feeling knowing that she's not attracted to me. It would be better to be thrown out than kept as a mouse to toy with. She says, get over it, we both have our touchy child sexual histories that makes us bang our heads against each other and we can work on it. And I felt positive about seeing the therapist last week. But tonight I keep on hearing it: she's not attracted to me sexually. Not that there is anything new in this admission. I remember when we were fighting two years ago before Hopi was created, she even admitted that she didn't like my uncircumcised dick! I have no idea why I keep on going and I have no idea why she keeps on insisting with me when she knows that she can find something more suitable than me. Why struggle so much? Because I'm an amazing father? Can't be. I hope not - I don't want her staying with me for that. I want her to stay with me because she loves me and she wants me physically.
When is enough enough? When there are no more lessons to learn? I have one more lesson to learn (who am I kidding, I have thousands). Maybe this one is the hardest. When I was a boy, I got into trouble for playing you-show-me-yours-if-I-show-you-mine. Police trouble. I was in a small Catholic village, so you can understand how this didn't go down too well. I carry the fear to this day. If my woman brings sex, then I'm fine. But I don't know how to take my sexual energy and excite my woman. I always did it indirectly, meekly. She doesn't stand for that. What do I need to learn? To bring my sexuality.
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate that life doesn't ever let up on me. I feel so far far away from the love and the joy I felt making love to her a month ago. Once we're in it, we're good. But getting there is next to impossible. She ignores and I frustrate until I can't stand it any longer.
And now I exhaust myself worrying how much longer this is going to last. I cried so much today. And no-one can do anything about it because it's still not enough to run. Something deep inside wants to believe that we can make something out of this. Something deep inside wants to be back inside her. I love her when I'm there. I feel strong.
So close and yet so far away. I hope we get there.
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