Detached

Remember that post I wrote a while back, about how I would always be graceful, even when all I wanted to say was "Fuck you"?

Scratch that. I have officially entered a new phase.

Ο Ταύρος τα άκουσε. Και τα 'fuck yous' και τα 'I hate yous' και τα 'what the fuck is wrong with yous'. I screamed, I cried, I yelled and broke anything I had in sight -and arms reach. I only stopped when he started coughing out blood.

And frankly, at some level, it gave me some sort of comfort, that he was in pain too. It's horrible of me, I know. But I lashed out and it was ugly. And it just got uglier.

Καταλήγει αυτός στο νοσοκομείο κι εγώ με τα ηρεμιστικά.

Really, all this hoo ha about love is making me sick.

Έτσι πέρασα μια βδομάδα on autopilot. Όλα γίνονταν εντελώς αυτόματα και by default. Δεν καταλάβαινα τίποτα, δεν με ένοιαζε τίποτα, δεν ένιωθα και τίποτα. Just a huge void. And confusion. I'm still confused actually. Κυρίως για το πώς με έχει γαμήσει τόσο πολύ αυτή η κατάσταση. Οι φίλοι μου με ρωτάνε 'what's wrong' και δεν ξέρω πού να αρχίσω και πού να τελειώσω.

I'm detached. I'm lingering somewhere in emotional limbo. For better or for worse. I'm confused. I just know that my wounds run a lot deeper than what I would even like to admit. And they're open now, and everything is rushing out.

I had to do it; I had to see it with my own eyes. Feel it with my gut. I knew where to find him, and I wanted to see his genuine instant reaction. That's how I would know. Πήρα την κολλητή μου και πήγαμε. I watched him like a hawk. I saw him. Tired. Με μια σκιά στο μάτι. Wandering around. Αλλά όταν με είδε.... oh God that smile. Δεν είχε σημασία πια ούτε το πού, ούτε το πώς, ούτε που είχε τόσο κόσμο. He broke away from his form and smiled. At me. Nodded at me. Looking at me straight in the eye. Smiling. The world just fade away, it didn't matter. We were completely exposed but it didn't matter. He was looking at me. And I was looking at him.

Όταν ήρθε κοντά μου, με πήρε αγκαλιά and I just melted. Melted into him. Έχωσα το πρόσωπο μου στο λαιμό του and he held me. And I thought 'friends don't look at each other like that'.

Walking to the car, η κολλητή μου could not stop saying 'Μάνα μου τον ρε' και πως 'I shouldn't be so hard on him'. Σταμάτησα μες τη μέση του δρόμου, άναψα τσιγάρο, ρούφηξα μια τζούρα and I said to her 'Νιώθω ότι he's the one. And it's fucking me up'.

Saying it out loud, τόσο αβιάστα. Χωρίς να σκέφτομαι αν ακούγομαι ηλίθια ή παράλογη. I said it and everything made sense.

For now I'm in repair mode; I'm not together, but I'm getting there. I think.