Confession

Dear Lord, if I still had more respect for my parents than for truth, I’d be ashamed by now.
But I’m not.

I have to confess something. It is messy, wild, uncontrolled. I don’t know where it came from, but I know it definitely needs to go.

So after ten thousand witchy rituals to clear my space, talking to my spiritual roommate for the hundredth time about it, and telling the other person I would leave and didn’t want any contact or whatsoever … this is my last attempt before giving up or going to a freaking shaman.

I fell in love.

But not in the cute, rational, “it makes total sense to be in love with that person” way.
No, in a bodily overwhelming, soul level way that confused me and everyone around me.

If I look at it rationally, I mean yes, there was a time I was sowing wild oats with this man I didn’t even know I had. But HOLD ON, I’m twenty eight. There are a lot more hot and wild interactions to come.

Worst of all, once I felt what my heart was doing, I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. I just let him know.

And here comes the truly embarrassing part.
I didn’t just have a conversation with him like, “Hey, I think I’m in love with you,” because we weren’t even close to seeing each other in person.

No. I did the far more obvious thing.
I wrote a script.

And if that’s not embarrassing enough I sent it to him.
Oh. My. God.
What was I thinking? Well, quite honestly… I wasn’t.

I was all dazed up in this mixture of bodily remembrance, heart expansion, and something soul-led that I’ve frankly stopped trying to understand completely.

Aftermath?

Yeah, he was still into me physically, that part was obvious. But not enough to actually get up and show up.

And emotions? Forget it.
The man acted like feelings were some kind of contagious disease.

But breadcrumbing? That was his love language.

That actually hurt, even if just a little.
It was like jumping off a cliff, imagining I’d fall into a wild, beautiful ocean: soft water, waves reminding me of my own power
and instead, mid-fall, realizing the ocean was frozen.

So I fell with all of my softness, bravery and wildness onto unwelcoming ground.

Here I was, having landed on this ice cold ground, being well aware that I needed to get up quickly before I would get stuck or frozen.

And after getting up and leaving, which was the first rational action in all of this madness, I asked myself: why should I care?

You think: well maybe because I poured out my heart to this man?
Well, I pour my heart out to a man basically once every two years, so we have about 560 days to go before the next cycle starts.

That’s not that long.

We have to also consider that there were obvious reasons for us not to be able to interact at such a romantic level that he told me and I just ignored them the same way you ignore the flight attendant giving the safety briefing, because you’re convinced the plane is not going down.

Well… turns out I preferred to crash.

So after he played hide and seek in my DMs and we still didn’t find a way to see each other, I had to accept the much harder truth.

OMG this man didn’t want me. He certainly did not love me back and even his desire for me wasn’t strong enough to stand in front of my door or pay me a visit while I was strolling though Berlin.

But worst of all?
Now I knew I didn’t want him anymore either.

It was like all my brain cells suddenly formed a girl gang, plotting to protect me the way a friend protects her most delusional bestie.

But here’s the problem: turns out that whooping in like a fire comet and then disappearing into the unknown works absolute wonders on my hunter instinct.

The thing is: I DON’T want to hunt damn it. I want to hunted down, desired, I want to be the fire comet in somebody else’s live that makes their heart pump to the throat and their saliva collect in their mouth. 

He was playing MY ROLE and all I wanted to do was playing the uno reverse card.

It’s not like letting go is a problem of mine.

I mean, I quite frankly I’ve been letting go of a lot recently, like the man that was auditioning for the,,father of the year” role, family approval as a guiding compass and so much more.

But letting go of a movie I already bought popcorn for, just to realize the producers pulled the plug halfway through?

Well, that’s when my inner self suddenly decides to develop… dedication?

Well, anyway, as long as I haven’t found a palpable solution to this challenge...I figured I could at least make the internet laugh.

And the moral of the story?
Don’t send romantic scripts to the boy you used to hook up with years ago.

For obvious reasons.
But just in case you needed the reminder: don’t.