love, Ruth Nineke

The Trust Is Broken

Post Published: January 20, 2024

I’ve been so tormented these past few days, in a way that I resent. In a way that I hate. But emotions – our own emotions, or others’ feelings – are not things we can actually hate. In so far as hating an emotion, or hating feeling an emotion is such a waste of time. Your response to emotion doesn’t really change them. If anything it only resizes them, bigger or smaller. But they remain.

What I hated so much about the recent events is how very familiar they were. The last time it hurt this bad, it hurt for ten years. I even woke up one day after I’d moved to Bali, from a dream where an old school reggae song played in my head. And I woke up crying. And to soothe myself, to bring myself off the mental ledge, I recorded into my voice app how I felt.

Oh! It was atrocious you know to admit to yourself at 9am the ways you felt so discarded and invisible and unwanted and tricked? The ways you felt like a fool.

It’s the funniest thing, except for it isn’t funny at all. I’m intelligent! Let’s be real, I am not an idiot. But for love? For romance? For that magical spark you get with someone?

Come on. I’m not a big flirt. Other people call it flirting. I was saying hello! I know when I like what I like. And when I feel it don’t I FEEL IT?

And, if I look back at all of it objectively, all I see is one idiot and the idiot is me.

And so the last time it felt this badly was James. And it hurt for ten years. Only because for ten years nothing compared. And it hurt worse because when we did reconnect I immediately forgave everything because I immediately thought there was nothing we couldn’t talk through. Like an idiot.

Except you can not talk through what the other person isn’t telling you. So when he got back with his pregnant ex (stab me in the heart harder please!) what was there to say? And why should I expect he say anything?

Who owes an idiot an explanation?

So that’s all. Life is a bunch of recurring lessons and patterns and lessons and lessons.

It’s not that I’m anymore psychic than anyone else. Everyone is born knowing their gifts. It’s just that I’m a little more aware of patterns and how experiences can resemble one another.

And this one resembles that one. In the best and worst ways.

And when I’m done feeling sorry for myself (sooner than ten years I promise!) then I’ll be out of it. But right now I’m in it and I’m pissed and I’m sad and I’m hurt and embarrassed.

To be an idiot.

The fucking absolute worst.

She’s smarter than that. She should have known better.


Tell me what you think before we both die



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