I wish I could combine my two blogs. I feel like anyone reading Love & Lies needs to know my background. How I came to this place, the bumps and bruises I got along the way and how the choices I made helped form the person I am. If you are interested its on WordPress, howdoilife.net. Love & Lies is my secret spot. Where I can throw it all out. I still have not shared some of my deepest secrets, my biggest regrets. It’s hard to lay it all out, to show my ugly truth, and to be judged by others. Even though I have no fucking idea who is reading this, you will still judge me. I would do the same. You will come to a conclusion about me. Maybe it’s right, maybe it’s not. Why do I care so much about what others think? Probably because I’m human.
So, here it is. I cheated. I CHEATED. I will not make excuses. I did it knowingly, willingly, consciously. I will not make excuses. I often wonder if he ever cheated. Maybe because it would make me fell better in some fucked up way. I think he knew it. Not every time, but at least twice. Once a long time ago and again very recently. He never approached me, never asked any questions. He never wanted the confrontation, the fight, the hurt. During one of our recent rough (very rough) patches, I asked him to sit down and talk to me. Again, I talked. He did not. I told him to ask me anything he wanted to, and I would tell him the truth, no matter what. He said he didn’t know what to ask me, he didn’t have any questions and the conversation stopped. Things eventually went back to our “normal”. But here we are again. I am waiting for him to break; he is waiting for me to break. This is the longest I have gone without caving or breaking. We exist in a house. There is no communication, there is no loving feeling, no intimacy, no touching. There is tension, sadness, fear, confusion, regret, disbelief. But we keep doing it day after day.
Another weekend is looming. Two full days of playing thedance of avoidance. Trying not to touch while walking through the same room. What happens if we accidentally touch? Will it burn? Will it sting? Will it force us to look into each other’s eyes? Force us to feel the distance that is between us? The distance that grows each day.
About a week ago I told him if he wants to be with me, wants me – he needs to talk to me and reach for me. That has not happened. And I honestly don’t feel that it will happen. We will continue living on the surface until one of us eventually sinks and drowns. It will be too late; it is probably too late already. He will never admit that it’s over. I feel it is. Wounds too deep to scab over.
FUCK
Love & Lies, Lies & Love 