So. This is going to be an absolutely open blog. This is how I decided. Truth, nothing but the truth, naked truth and truth only. About love, no love, weird love, love as it is, lack of love, the need to be loved and… no need to be loved.

I will share one story today.

Many years ago I loved a man from another country. A different but at the same time similar culture. I fell in love with him many years ago and did not fall out of this love for many years even after our relationship was over. It was over for him. But not for me. I think a relationship is not over until it is not over in the heads of both people. I think that relationship was not over while I kept loving the man. I loved him like I never loved anyone (before and after), NEVER EVER. And he loved me. I could fee I was loved. I just knew his feelings were true. But… they were short-lived. Let’s call this man M. So M convinced me to leave my boyfriend-at-the-time. Wouldn’t say needed much convincing. My feelings for my boyfriend (let’s call him H and I believe at some point I will tell his story, too) were fading. Then one night, being in a country far away from home, I saw M. He wasn’t local, either. So we were both strangers in that country but at the same time he had spent several years there already and he guided me through my everyday life there. Anyway, I never believed love at first sight really existed until I… fell in love at first sight. There are these people that you know how they are by merely looking at their face. I mean, some people are a mystery to be discovered while others (not that many of them, actually) have it all written on their faces. He was one of those. At least for me. We started living together a week or two into our relationship. Too soon, you would say? I would say so too if it wasn’t about me and him.  And living with him was no mistake. These were the best times of my life. But one day it was time for me to go home to my country. And he stayed where we met and lived. I used to cry myself to sleep like a baby. It felt like I could not breathe without him. I got into depression to a point where I had to take drugs. Nothing helped. The drugs made me feel very bad physically so I had to stop. But then my love bought plane tickets for me and I went to visit him. That trip healed me. It made me believe we would actually be together for good. I just knew I would have to go home once again, finish my studies and then somehow, no matter how I would go back to M and we would be together. I went home being stronger. I went home believing. Yet our next meeting never happened. One day he just stopped calling me, writing to me, answering my calls. I was going crazy thinking something awful had happened to him. The thought of him ending our relationship never crossed my mind. And yet this is how it was. One day he finally picked up and as simply as that told me he had fallen OUT of love with me. It was over. Something over for the first time in my life that hurt me so much. 12 years have passed. For maybe 8 or so I still loved that man. I loved him and hated him, ignored him and was talking to him in my mind. And I still feel hurt. Broken. Shallow. To a point, of course, because time heals (or at least lets you forget). But I will feel the consequences of this breaking-up for the rest of my life. That’s how deep it hurts. It used to hurt like crazy all the time. Then it would hurt only when I would remember. Now there is just a shadow of this pain, just some tingling sensation. But that will never go. It is mine for good. I earned it.

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