a folder full of heartache

Posted: December 19, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: memory lane, this is love | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Yesterday I took a trip down memory lane. It was kind of unintentional, in that my purpose wasn’t to reminisce and get painfully nostalgic; my purpose was to finally sort through the videos that have been in the folder named ‘VIDEOS TO SORT’ for the past three years or so. I’ve been in a file-organising ‘mood’, which roughly translated probably means I know my life’s a mess, but forget that and just look how tidy my file system is! Or something.

Anyway. Happy moments we captured on our phones, stored on my hard-drive forever. Notice that I said ‘organising’ and not ‘deleting’. I can’t, and won’t, delete traces of him from my computer to symbolise the end of our relationship, or so that I can move on, or because that’s what the advice columns tell us we should do after a break-up. This isn’t Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, and even then, deleting memories turned out to be a waste of time.

Memories are all we’re left with at the end of the day. When all else is said and done, they are the only things that are truly ours, that we take with us to the grave. But memories have a habit of fading over time… until something – it could be a song, a photograph, a smell, a video – triggers it and we’re right back in that moment again.

Most of the videos I organised were footage of gigs we went to, but it’s not just the gigs I remember (although some of them were AWESOME). With the help of several exchanges between us that I overheard in the recordings, I remember what happened before and after those gigs. I remember how good I felt in those moments. I remember what my life was like then – not only the good, but the bad as well. But mostly, I remember an important part of my life, and the person who played such an important part in it.

So I won’t be deleting those videos. Just in case I get senile dementia, or just plain sentimental, I’ll be putting them into a folder with his name it, and filing them away somewhere safe. At least if I look at them again, it will be intentional, and maybe I will be prepared for the heartache.

gone

Posted: November 27, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: this is love | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I think about us, and I realise, with a great deal of sadness, that I’ve been longing for times gone by for too damn long. We had so many good times together. The best of times. We were so happy once. We had something really special, and I miss that so much. I wanted it back so badly. If I’m true to my heart, I still do. I would give almost anything to have it back. I almost did.

But it’s gone. It’s all gone. 

I should be glad to be rid of someone who in recent years has caused me so much unhappiness. But I’m just so inexplicably sad that something that was once so beautiful has somehow turned so bad. However bad it turned out though, it was the most important – and precious – relationship of my life, and I can’t forget that, even though remembering it breaks my heart like nothing else. Nostalgia is making it so hard to let go. To accept that it’s already gone.

Is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? Right now, I really don’t know.

lost at sea

Posted: October 25, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: soul searching | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

My problem is I don’t know when or how to stop. Or maybe I do. Maybe I just never really want to. And I don’t only mean drinking. Drugs, relationships, sex, arguments, Candy Crush fucking Saga. The list of things that I don’t stop is endless. I always want more. Another line, another shot, another touch, another chance. It’s never too much. Until, of course, it is. 

My personal boundaries are a broken fence lost at sea, probably because I am. And I think my life-jacket has a slow-puncture.

It’s not all bad though. And even when it has been bad, it hasn’t been boring. Crashing from story to story, making waves, creating memories that I couldn’t forget even if I tried. Sure, there are plenty that I’ve desperately tried to forget, but there are equally as many that I’ll treasure forever, even if I won’t be able to tell my grandchildren about them (assuming I manage to stay afloat that long).

My life hasn’t been dull, and I think I’m glad of that. But I need an anchor, and a puncture repair kit.