God, what am I doing?
I miss him, but I am pushing him away. I love but I don’t want him. Even though he’s perfect. Even though he is good for me.
What do I do?
I’m not ready to put those pieces back together. Not now. Not right now.
What if I can’t love him like I should? What if there’s no more room in my heart for there to be broken pieces?
On my own, I feel complete. I feel great. I feel perfect. Of course I wonder if a relationship is what I truly want.
Today my friend Cati and I spoke about relationships and what it meant to be a parent. She has been married for years, but had chosen not to have children. Recently, she had discovered that she could no longer conceive due to some condition in her womb. She told me that having a baby changes the relationship. Sometimes for better or for worse. She gave me a scenario about a friend who just went through a divorce. The child was having difficulty adjusting to the change of not having her daddy around. It was hard for the mother, too, for she still loved this man very much; sometimes relationships don’t work out, but it’s hard when you have to see them so often for the child’s sake. She cannot forget him if he is always before her.
Babies change relationships. You roll the dice and see what you get. Am I willing to risk my body, risk investing 9 months into someone and their offspring only to find out that nothing has come out of it? No. I don’t think so.
I don’t know why, but I seem to see myself as a single mother. Maybe because my mother raised me as one. I could get married, though. But I’m very independent. Oh, What’s the point of love if it doesn’t matter? If it only lasts so long?
Why should I waste my time? Why do I feel the pain when I think of hurting him? I know that no man is perfect. Why do I keep asking him to wait? Why won’t he leave me? I’ve done him wrong before. And I was sorry. So sorry.
I just can’t understand the reasoning of my heart.
I had a dream about a man. It was a sensual dream. I walked into the house and he was there. I lay down. He lay down with me. Our legs intertwined, caressing and whispering sweet words of forever. No more. No less.
I can’t lie, I miss the intimacy of loving a man, of holding his brokenness with delicacy– with which only a woman could be trusted– touching the wounds only a woman can heal.
But what about my wounds? Why should I look after another when I am still here, waiting for love of self? I cannot give if I do not have.