Untitled Part I

[I'm writing this in English because it's much easier for me to talk about feelings in English. Don't know why, but it's always been that way. I'm a bit emotional though, so there might be mistakes so, people who are fluent in English, bear with me].

How can you crave something you've never had? No wait, I know the answer to this one, this is not the real question. The real question is: how can you feel the loss of something you've never had so sharply? How do you wake up one morning, utterly and completely sad about something that you've never experienced and that you're not sure even exists (besides in movies or tv shows or books)?

I've always had very vivid dreams. Everything I feel in my dreams, every emotion, every touch, I feel it as acutely as if I had lived them - sometimes even more. There are times when I can't even tell whether something really happened or I only dreamt it. I can name at least 5 moments. Maybe ten if I concentrate. That's a lot.

And sometimes, in my dreams, I dream about being wanted. Being desired. Being loved. Being caressed and touched with care and tenderness and lust. I feel everything, from the touch of a hand, to the soft caress of a mouth, from the shock of hard muscles against my body... to the shock of one hard muscle against my body. Well yeah, just like everyone else, sometimes my dreams are amazingly hot. For someone's who's never had an orgasm thanks to a real guy, that's good - and sad in so many ways.

Most of the times, in the morning I feel a little flustered, I feel a little nostalgic, and then I move on with my day.

And sometimes, like this morning, waking up leaves me with an incommensurable feeling of loss. I wake up and I feel lonely. And empty. And I feel like my life is a complete waste. And everything that makes me happy (well, as happy as I could be, because I have a feeling I will never be truly happy... I don't even know what happiness looks like) - today that's the fact that I am now officially a home owner, which is awesome (because that's something I've wanted for more than 10 years, and because it's another step towards adulthood - and probably the last one for me because let's face it, I'm never gonna get married or even get a PACS or even move in with someone that's not my brother, and of course, I'm never gonna have kids... so there you go, all that's left for me to achieve is a big fat nothing) -, so everything that makes me happy is totally insignificant when measured up to everything that makes me sad.

Mostly, I'm fine with being single. I won't lie, it would be nice to have a fella, but I've made my peace with the fact that it will probably never happen for me (because it's never happened before. No one has ever loved me. Not ever. I don't know what it feels like). And honestly, I'm a good single woman. I'm ok on my own. I crave companionship (and friendship) more than I crave love. And I'm even wondering if I like sex. The rare times I tried it (with someone else, I mean), I loved everything around it, but the intercourse itself was widely disappointing. The smells, the noises... And even the smells that linger afterwards are just icky to me. When I'm on my own, it's way better... and clean and not smelly. You could argue that I didn't try it with good enough partners. Possibly. It just comes a time when one has to learn not to be too picky if one wants intimacy. I'm hoping, for your sake, that you've never experienced this. If you have, I am truly sorry for you - as much as I am for myself.

Anyway. I was saying that I like being single. Not having to rely on someone, not having to take someone else into account for any decision (hearing people saying "I can't get a haircut / a tattoo / high heels..." or any other stupid sentence "because he won't like it / doesn't approve / doesn't like me being taller..." just makes my skin crawl. And I couldn't stand it.

But if I am truly honest, I'd say I'm a bit scared as well. Sacred to bring my problems into a relationship. Scared to show my true self to someone else. Scared of the intimacy. I wouldn't know what to do, how to act. So yeah, I'm scared. I'm not one to live only through the eyes of the loved one, but I guess I'm like everybody else, I just want to be loved.

So back to this dream. It was just the epitomy of that. This guy - who, in my dream, I knew from school, and who, for some reason, looked just like Eric Balfour - who of course, I find extremely attractive in spite - or maybe because of - his weird features -, so this guy came to me and was like :"you're the type of woman I love. How about we started something?" (yeah, totally plausible right?). And then and there, I could feel the fear crawling inside of me. The insecurity. The excuses ("I can't because..."). But in dreams we are bolder than in real life, right? So I went for it anyway. And it was awesome. It was perfect. It was everything I wanted.

And then I woke up. I worked out - and I didn't really give it my all and it showed in my calorie burn -, I had breakfast, I showered. And there, while in the shower, I cried. I cried big fat tears of sadness. Real sadness. The one that overwhelms you, that takes you by surprise, that you don't even know you're feeling but it's there. It surfaces whenever you watch Grey's Anatomy or any TV show for that matter, it surfaces when you read a book, or watch a piece of news about anything. It just stays under the surface. You know it's there but you forget about it. You just figure you're very emotional. That tears come easy to you. But deep down you know it's not true. You know you are truly, deeply sad, and that there's something missing from your life, that there's a hole you can't fill up. You know you can't do anything about it so you just hide it. You smile. You even laugh.

The people who know you might be able to tell that you're sad, if you're lucky enough to have that kind of people around you. I'm not sure I do anymore. (Fortunately, I do have one. You know who you are. I just hope I know how to be a friend to you, because I don't want to lose you). Four years away is a long time. Life goes by. People grow up and apart. I'm trying to make peace with that. And to be honest, during those four years, I totally unlearned how to be a good friend. Or how to be a friend, period. But the truth is: even if you do have people around you who notice, they don't really care: they're too caught up in their own misery to help you take care of yours. So you smile even more. You lie and say everything's fine. You cover it up.

I know I will be able to put my sadness away again, to bury it a bit deeper, so that it only shows when I'm watching an ep from Grey' Anatomy, or any TV show for that matter. But today, I can't. And it's going to be a rough week.