فيزا
So, I'm in bed now, and I've just turned the television off after having watched some to keep my mind busy in some way. The news channel said that the war in my country is almost over, that the parties involved are negotiating a ceasefire and an effective, peaceful land division, that my city will be administered by a local, democratic government, that the foreign troops will withdraw within next spring and finally leave us alone ... so yay, this means that once I'll go back there, and I'll forever go back there next summer as you know, I'll have less chances of being sniped, and more chances of just living the peaceful life that I so want for myself. With a heart less heavy than before I originally turned the television on, and with lots of hope inside of me, also with the certainty that there's worse stuff in this life, than missing the person you love and losing them to someone else... I tucked in bed, and tried to fall asleep for my own good. Hugging my camel plushie, purring my cheek against the pillow, smooching it on and off, and imagining it wasn't a piece of home decor, but the guy I love the most. Laying in bed with me, snuggling with me as he always used to do, and lovingly cradling me into the arms of Morpheus. But his warmth wasn't there, his light scent wasn't filling my nostrils, his sweet nothings weren't filling my ears and my heart, he was away and totally far out of reach from me... and I was quick to understand that I wouldn't have been able to fall asleep with the thought of him in my mind.
I tried to rub the god damned thought off me, getting rid of the pillow, throwing it away and attempting to sleep without it... but cheek squashed against the mattress, eyelids peeled down and heavy with sleepiness, I realised that Allah didn't have plans for me to get some much deserved sleep, when I heard my portable phone ring from my bedside table. Pretty sure it was gonna be Sean, or at least hopeful that it was really gonna be him, after twenty-four solid hours of mutually trying to get in contact with no success at all, I picked up the call... and instantly mumbled 'hey, my love' into the dial, my voice trembling with anticipation, and my heart beating frantically in my chest. But guess what? It turned out it wasn't Sean. It turned out I attached the 'my love' label to a person I see as a friend and nothing more than just that. It turned out I felt so awkward I almost thought about taking a dive from my bedroom window, destination the concrete wall of down the road... but if I didn't commit nor die of shame in the end, it was because the conversation turned out to be a rather pleasant one. I mean, couldn't be any other way, when you're hearing from Layne out of all the people in the world, and he does his best to cheer you up because he knows that you (and his drummer too) are having it rough on a whole different level.
I've been on the phone with Layne for a while now, and besides giggling and joking with him, I haven't asked him one question about my ex boyfriend/his drummer. I care about Sean, I find it odd that he wouldn't have called me after the show of the night, but Layne yes... yet, if I stayed silent about it, well, it was and it is because I'm too afraid of finding out that while I'm in a misery for him, he's out there doing something that would end up hurting me even more if I knew. I've come to the conclusion that the less I know about Sean, these days, the better. I have experienced how the piece of news about him and Bessie doing the dirty behind my back (and Cuntrell's too) was too much for me to process and digest. And at this point, I just want to be ignorant. I just want some much deserved peace of mind. I just want to be free from my scheme of delusional/dramatic thoughts instilled by my 'love' for a fucking man who doesn't love me just as much. I just want to stop crying every couple hours for the same, fucking man who doesn't love me just as much. I'm pretty sure I don't even want love anymore, as I'm more convinced than ever that the feeling ain't for me in this lifetime.
Being scared of my own heart and feelings, all I want at the moment is a normal chat and a good laugh with a good guy friend who doesn't see me as the ultimate end of his hormones, or as a potential romantic interest. And unironically much, Layne is the only Alice guy who never had drool by the sides of his mouth for me, and who never tried to rizz me for whatever end goal: just fucking me, like the guitarist and the bassist, or wanting to get to know me better, like the drummer. Very unironically, Layne is the one I'm talking to right now, he's the only one who had the decency to call me over the last few days... and this, beloved piece of paper of my secrets, is the evidence that the more a man fancies you, spiritually or physically or whatever, the less he will respect you once he thinks he's got some sort of 'claim' on you. On the contrary, the more he will take you for granted, especially if you've let him see you naked. Don't have sex with men. Don't get in relationships with men. Keep it cool and keep 'em friendzoned... because it's only when they're friendzoned that they're in their fucking place. Remember how fucking cute and sweet and funny and all the fucking positive adjectives in the world my ex boyfriend used to be, before he was hundred percent sure I was totally fucking smitten with him? Remember how he shouted in my face and insulted me and gaslit me the day after we picked up a 'fight' because I wanted to eventually help him pay for the mortgage of the house he wanted to buy... FOR US? And he wanted it to be ALL ON HIMSELF?
