your love- chapters 6,7,9

Thursday July 8, 2010

Your love

book 1 chapt. 6,7,9

 chapter 6 of book one: Truth

 There weren't any words to describe the hurt you feel when you've been betrayed. deceived.

 Anger. Dejection. Regret.

  

 Then again,"Zahira" was a liar.

 I didn't know who to believ. Zahira told me one thing, another told me different.

She told me that he got a GIRL PREGNANT. She linked herself to him so he couldn't be with me.

 Though I've found out his secrets, I still wanted him so. And he deceived me, but I coudn't let him go.

I hadn't realized how upset I had been until I talked to my mother. She told me I was sleep-walking the other night. Was there no one at all to turn to? I looked up at the miserable sky. and cried, just as David in the bible had:

Somebody, please help me.Is there a god  I can depend on? Show me you are there so I won't become bad.

The wind blew as I went on:

I don't mean to be bad when I am. Please, just don't let me be broken again--bring him back here with me. Please.

  

And I waited for my response.

  

 (notes/ comments:) ummm whoa! the writing is so small it barely takes up a page!!! It's so much bigger on lined paper...) 

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Saturday, July 10, 2010

Chapter7

Two days after waiting desperately for an answer, my love returned.

He had been looking for me, I knew.

Suddenly it didn't matter what kept us apart, I knew. God was there. He brought him back to me, for a while at least.

****

It was like I blinked and he disappeared. I hoped and prayed for his return, and the days I've waited felt like eternity.

I sensed he'd be back, then I'd ask him the truth-- the full of it.

It had been painful at times to remember us before that first disappearance. We were really something. I had loved and hurt so many times, so hard, that one day it might kill me.

Every reason I loved him kept me waiting. Gentle, sweet, warm, Guillaume...

I will wait for you..

  

(comments:) umm...maybe on paper I write too big???

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July 23-25, 2010

Chapter 9

He never did come back.

Getting over him sounded easier than it felt, but I coun't let this go on any longer. I couldn't let every guy crush me.

But I did.

I have tried my very best to get over him week after week.

Finally my heart grew stronger-- a little, but still stronger. It hurt to try and forget the love I felt, but I endured it.

Then I started dreaming about him. My greatest fear was finding out that he was as bad as Zahira had said.

Two nights in a row I've had dreams about him. I knew he wasn't coming back-- I was sure he had a new life, and a new love. He moved on, so I coudn't I?

Because I loved him.

I tried to keep my thoughts at "He's not here, not coming back." Not a happy thought, but it kept me from extreme disappointment.

One thing I wanted to forget was pain.

"What happened to Guillaume?" My mother asked me, and it hurt me-- more than i can say-- to hear his name.

"He's gone." I answered. I was smiling, trying to hide behind my voice, stop myself from crying.

The truthwas, I didn't know where he was. How his name triggered sudden heaviness so deep, I couldn't stand the silence at night. I couldn't sleep.

He suddenly disappeared, and left me here with these unbearable people. In this God-forsaken place.

God left me with no father, and no man to love me.

He said he loved me, and I believed him. I was stupid. I was...broken, empty. How I pay for such fragility. Such folly. My heart  shattered.

Life goes on. a broken heart heals. Like every wound, there's a scar, a memory, but it fades away eventually.

Hopelessly Waiting

Jan. 21, 2011
chpt. 6
Bk. 4


I'm afraid. I'm so afraid of rejection and heartache.

"Try not to suffer," he says to me. That was like saying, "Try not to breathe."
But I do, and I am.

In so little time there is much to remember of him. And so little. Not a day goes by without me waiting for him. Waiting for what? Waiting for him to reject me. For him to tell me that I'm only something to look at, not to love.



Love looks not with the heart
but with the mind
therefore is winged cupid
painted blind.
-Shakespeare


When I really think about it, I've never known true love. Pain is all I've known. Maybe it's supposed to be that way.

I walk the path less walked

Tuesday, Dec. 7
chapt. 13
Bk. 3


I walked outside while it continued to snow. The snow was deep and fresh.

I looked around and saw that the only prints around were mine.

How much easier it was to just walk into a path already made; worn out it was. But I've chosen the harder path where I've made my own prints, tripping and stumbling in an effort to reach my destination.

It's lonely, too.

Other paths are straight. they go one way and end. Mine goes with my heart, and twists and turns with it's motions. It's unlimited.

I don't need anyone to follow. I'll take the road no one has chosen. I'll walk the path less walked, where ever it goes.

From a distance

I stood and watched from a distance as my sisters clung to a relative begging him not to leave. This was strange to me. I didn't care whether he stayed or went. Why did they?

I turned to my mother, who sat on the couch annoyed with my sisters' behaviour. "Mom, was I ever like that when I was their age?"

"No," she said. "You weren't really attached anyone but your father."

She was right. When I was very young I remember only crying for him, and rejoicing when I'd see him again. The first person to ever make me laugh when I was a baby. Mom was always upset whenever she mentioned this. 

When I was 11, my father told me that if there was anything that I wanted, he would give it to me. I told him that I wanted to see him, be around him. I didn't get it. I didn't ask for anything else.

It's strange how the more I wanted him to be there, the more excuses, lies he used to try and keep me away. He blames me.

I haven't done anything. God is my witness.

I've tried so many times to be closer to him. There's a wall in between us; there's no passing it. It's too thick. Too late. He doesn't even know my favourite colour. How can he get to know me? I call him on the phone, and I can't think of anything to say. 

My mother always said to me that he cares about me. He loves me. But it confuses me that he doesn't call. His new family is more important now. For me to squeeze in...there's just no room. I just stand back and watch. It hurts to be on the outside looking in. He was my father once. I bet they didn't know that. It's good that they don't know a broken family. Even if I came first I'm illegitimite. I hate that word. It means I don't matter. Well, that's what it means to me.

I remember being young and crying at night, because I had a bad dream. When my father came out of his room, I thought he would scold for being loud. Instead, he hugged me and rocked me and told me that "everything is okay".

Everything was okay. He loved me. Past tense.

My english teacher was a wonderful father, he talked about his children all the time.

After school one day, I was doing an assignment, and he said, "Come on, I've got to go home and see my kids."

I thought it was funny. That was a joke. I started to laugh, "You don't really mean that,"

"Of course I do, they're my kids, I love them, they are the most important people in my life."

and I wanted to cry because i've never heard a man say that before. I was 13. I didn't think it was possible.

 I asked my father to take me to the hospital when i was 14. Even though I couldn't take pain, I was willing to go and get the mini-operation, I just wanted this pain to go away. But he wouldn't take me because it would hurt. My father said no. 

I've always promised myself that I would keep my own family together one day. I'll be damned if It breaks. If he leaves me, let it be because of death, not because he didn't want me; It has to be because he has no choice.