He's away. I'm going away. I try to feel the connection with others. I don't.
It's not exactly the same type of connection anyway.
When I fell asleep the other night, this man I was over draped his arms around me, he grabbed my hand, like my ex would. He had a very similar built like my ex. He woke up in the morning and wanted more of me.
I had decent sex with him.
He was interesting to talk with. I like him. But I don't love him.
I love my ex.
The other day this man was asking me what is love? Do I know what it is?
I said yes, I've only loved ones. Both times I felt that I could do anything for that other person, I'd die for him. I'd leave my family for him and I was his and his alone. I couldn't control what love was and love was not.
But it must be reciprocated. My ex loved me in his own ways. He told me that he loved me. Over and over again. I believed him. I always knew that he meant it. Even when he was out fucking others. There was a sense of entitlement. He felt that he owned me. He made sure that I knew that. I knew that he expected that I was his. I therefore wanted to be his. I had felt so much like that he was mine. I felt that I could not have belonged to another. When I tried to leave him I felt my world was torn apart. I felt that I was no longer whole. He was the only person who got me. He understood me. He loved me for whom I was, truly. I did not have to lie to him. I could be me and he would have loved me, whether I was fucking others or not, he loved me.
I knew it in my heart that he did that because I was rarely wrong.
And therefore, I loved him back, whether he was fucking others or not, I didn't care. I loved him the way a school girl who had her first crush would. I felt that I belonged with him.
I had never felt this level of intensity. This prolonged, two years and counting intensity.
No one understood that. No one could understand that.
If I had told anyone, they'd laugh. They'd think that I was out of my mind.
I thought my pain would subside, it did not.
I thought that I'd stop loving him. I had not.
So that's what it was like, to be loved so completely by this man who was largely absent from my life. He was my very own father figure.
If you ask me tomorrow, what do you know about love? I would tell you I know. Because I have loved, and lost, and no one would ever know that. I was complete because of him. He was mine, I was his.
And no matter who I was physically, my heart and soul belonged to him. And I hate myself for it. But I can't stop loving him.
It's not exactly the same type of connection anyway.
When I fell asleep the other night, this man I was over draped his arms around me, he grabbed my hand, like my ex would. He had a very similar built like my ex. He woke up in the morning and wanted more of me.
I had decent sex with him.
He was interesting to talk with. I like him. But I don't love him.
I love my ex.
The other day this man was asking me what is love? Do I know what it is?
I said yes, I've only loved ones. Both times I felt that I could do anything for that other person, I'd die for him. I'd leave my family for him and I was his and his alone. I couldn't control what love was and love was not.
But it must be reciprocated. My ex loved me in his own ways. He told me that he loved me. Over and over again. I believed him. I always knew that he meant it. Even when he was out fucking others. There was a sense of entitlement. He felt that he owned me. He made sure that I knew that. I knew that he expected that I was his. I therefore wanted to be his. I had felt so much like that he was mine. I felt that I could not have belonged to another. When I tried to leave him I felt my world was torn apart. I felt that I was no longer whole. He was the only person who got me. He understood me. He loved me for whom I was, truly. I did not have to lie to him. I could be me and he would have loved me, whether I was fucking others or not, he loved me.
I knew it in my heart that he did that because I was rarely wrong.
And therefore, I loved him back, whether he was fucking others or not, I didn't care. I loved him the way a school girl who had her first crush would. I felt that I belonged with him.
I had never felt this level of intensity. This prolonged, two years and counting intensity.
No one understood that. No one could understand that.
If I had told anyone, they'd laugh. They'd think that I was out of my mind.
I thought my pain would subside, it did not.
I thought that I'd stop loving him. I had not.
So that's what it was like, to be loved so completely by this man who was largely absent from my life. He was my very own father figure.
If you ask me tomorrow, what do you know about love? I would tell you I know. Because I have loved, and lost, and no one would ever know that. I was complete because of him. He was mine, I was his.
And no matter who I was physically, my heart and soul belonged to him. And I hate myself for it. But I can't stop loving him.
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