True love stays with you for a lifetime. The love he has given me will stay with me forever and for that I am ever grateful. Loving him has been the best experience of my life and if we had had the most horrible, unpleasant break up (which, clearly we haven’t) it wouldn’t make me take back the last four years.
It is because of this love that we shared that I realise I need to let him go. We have been together since we were eighteen years old. When we first met, Rudi was someone who didn’t know much about himself. He didn’t know who he was or what he wanted to do with his life. I helped him figure a lot of this out and get to where he is today but now he needs to explore more on his own. Without the crutch of my constant love, affection and advice; without thinking for two. And I understand that. And while of course it broke my heart, I knew I had to let him go, and I wanted to. Because I love him. Loving someone means you want them to be the most them they can be. To shine, to be happy, to enjoy themselves. I wanted to because our relationship was wonderful and to continue when his heart wasn’t in it would be a disservice to everything we ever shared. I wanted to because I would never stay with someone who wasn’t sure that I was what they wanted. I wanted to because I deserve love.
I’ve never written about him because I never could. Not properly. 100, 200, 300; 1000 words would never be enough. He is my soulmate. The ying to my yang. He is every stereotype and more. He is my best friend and I am his. He does things every day to confirm each and
You know, it’s no wonder girls grow up to feel depression when they look in the mirror, depression when broken up with, presssure to have the big white wedding and pressure to stay under a certain weight and have a certain look we define as ‘beautiful’.Even a seemingly innocent film like Kangaroo Jack isn’t free from the inference of such pressures.
Recently while babysitting two angelic little kids, I happened to catch the last twenty minutes of Kangaroo Jack, as they watched it attentively before bed. In the time I watched it, a white attractive american man kissed a white blonde haired, blue eyed girl. Of course at the end of the film they were married and the man described his happiness at having a “beautiful” wife. The woman’s value lay in the fact that she was beautiful, not anything else. Continue reading
Isn’t the sense of self a funny thing?
My boyfriend recently told me about a conversation he’d had with a mutual friend and I couldn’t help but laugh. The friend in question had told him about all the flaws a co-worker of his had. Ironically enough they happened to be the exact flaws we’ve observed of said friend. Mr. Friend could see clearly what Mr. X could improve on, yet when either of us, on separate occassions, had tried to tell him the same things, our comments fell on deaf ears. POT! KETTLE! BLACK!