Hollowed Honesty

Day 23, Day 24

I don't know how long this blog will go on for now. Because so much is flooding out of my head, my shoulders strain under it all, my chest pounds with it.
I am forbidden to write was had happened. I love him, that hasn't changed but parallel to this, I loathe him for being such a revolting liar.
He lied to me. Because a week ago he swore without end that he felt NothingNothingNothing. Yet when I lay in his bed two days ago, him holding me tight and promising never to let me go, he confessed he still feels so much for me. That wasn't the influence of everything we had intoxicated ourselves with because the following morning, while the icy sunlight openned my eyes he said so again. And again. And again. It was like listening to birdsong of a dying bird. A bird that sings beautifully but doesn't want to sing that tune. What he did. Drumdrumdrum, pouding in my temples."I can't control it" he said.
He lies to himself. Despite these "feelings," these golden shining dreams he's weaved with his words, he says he wants to get rid of them. Exterminate his own emotions. Murder the very hope he shoved into my palms on Wednesday, even more so on Saturday night. Because, as he also said to me, he feels the same about me as he does about her. And he acts around me as he acts around her. "Thats the problem." he says. Ofcourse its a problem. Suddenly she and I are shining twins that he skips between, picking at this and that from each of us. She doesn't know a thing of course. I never meant much to anyone, why start now, but this is so unfair on her. Oh, he held me, I could have stayed forever, never left and never closed my eyes, because he breathed on my cheek and stroked my hair and I felt like nothing could be wrong anywhere, when under just one duvet such excrutiating happiness lay on my eyelids.

As I said, I am forbidden to specify. I regret it. But I am glad it happened. But I also regret it. I have no idea how to feel really. The morning after, Sunday morning, he chatted lightly as anything insisting that he didn't regret it, it wasn't the same as last time, and he isn't ashamed. Ashamed or not, it is a deadly secret which he wants kept between him and me. I walked out as soon as I was dressed. Asking just two things, "Will you tell her?" and "Will you stay with her?" The former was answered with a distinct No and the latter with a For The Moment. I considered these responses for a moment and walked out of his room, his house, his street, his fucking neighbourhood in utter disgust.
I gave him two days to consider things. I explained to him that he can't be fit to be with anyone when he is capable of doing what he is doing to both me and her. After two days (this is last night now) I went to his for dinner. We ate. We watched a film. We avoided the obvious. Seems he was determined to forget about it and act as if it had no importance. No importance? I am breathing on the things he said and did, it is the reason I am here. Eventually I brought it up. Will you tell her? Never. Never? NEVER? Never. Then I will. I am not prepared to lie. I refuse to go against everything I stand for, even for you. She has to know the truth.
And dear, darling no one, do you know what he said?
Jingling our five years in his sleeve like spare change and glaring me in the eyes he said Then I will cut you out forever, I will never see you again. I would never care about you.
Well, I shattered into a shards of sobs and contempt for his selfishness on his bed, with my knees cutting into my chin. How? How could he possibly say those words to me? All I want is for him to be honest to her. Because its so horribly unfair for him to keep her in an invisible blindfold she doesn't even know she wears, while he shadows me into a dark corner under the excuse of not "hurting" her. Surely even he isn't blind enough to not see that the longer he keeps these vicious lies unravelling around her, the worse it will hit when he scrapes up the courage he left all over my pillows to tell her. It will hit like a nuke and blow everything to shreds. But he lives for now, and for now, he doesn't want yet another girls crying and asking him why? why are you doing this?
Why are you doing this?? I feel so empty.
Anyway, we shouted at eachother, about lying and hurting and fucking and loving and feelings and hating and he screamed for me to get out of his house but then that he might want to be with me and then that he never will be. Eventually we came to a blurry conclusion. He will tell her everything, if he decides to stay with her. If I tell her myself, not only will he erase me out of his life, but he will deny it all to her. He will say I am a liar. Tell her I am trying to break them up. I am a bitch and she shouldn't listen to a word I say. The disgusting thing is, she would believe him. She would never listen to me. So that leaves me no choice. If he decides to keep lying to her, thats the way it is. Because even if I shove my moralistic cries of "honesty" and "openness" he will convince her that all I am is a Sick Liar.
For now he is supposedly "taking a break." That is, not talking to me, or her, niether of us. Not until he sorts his head out and makes a decision. It will be her, thats blidingly obvious.
I have missed out a lot. A lot of meaningless but deafening emotion thats still, hours, days later drumdrumdrumming in my mouth. His kissing. I miss it more than I have ever missed anything (and trust me, for some one who has moved country, missing is not an unfamiliar feeling.)

Even last night, after screaming and crying, we cuddled up for a few hours before he pulled away. But he pulled away for a bad reason. Not out of respect but out of.... I can't be to explicit on this. What he did next to me, after pushing my body away, was revolting. Now I think about it I feel sicker and sicker. He let me hold his hand for the night after that. Without it I lay wide awake and stared into the blackness, convincing myself that if I stared hard enough, I'd drown. I didn't drown, but his hand soothed me to sleep where I dreamt two terrifying nightmares and shook and shivered after waking. This morning he was cold. Then I cried. And cried. And he became warmer, cupped my face, said he knows how I feel. But I never...
Whats the use.
I'll miss out the rest. It doesn't matter. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.
I hate myself. I wish I could hate him. I wish I could. Last night, after all he said and didn't say, did and didn't do I felt like quite seriously hitting him in the face, not for the purpose of harming him, but for personal satisfaction of believing I had harmed him. This quickly passed when I locked my freezing, tearstained fingers in his and kissed them goodnight.

I need to go. I am late. I am in love, like a stupid seventeen yearold who thinks she's seen it all, done it all, when really she hasn't seen or done anything.
I beg for him to make the right choice while he thinks. I beg and beg and beg for this pounding murder to stop.
And I beg to either find he loves me back or to learn to hate him.
Goodnight.