I don't like to be embarrassed. I don't like to be lied to. I would prefer for my time not to be wasted. The night before last I discovered something about my former partner.

It has truly crushed me.

And unfortunately, it has ruined any hopes of ever reconciling or engaging with this person on any level ever again in my life. I dedicated so much to this person. I gave them so much. I was uncomfortably honest about everything with this person. And yet they still choose to be dishonest and harm me. They still chose to convince others that I was a bad person.They still choose to be mean. 

My discovery of their choices following the end of our relationship (that completely contradict their choices during our relationship) have led me to a deeply reflective space.

This is not the first time someone has betrayed my trust. This is not the first time I have found myself, by myself riddled with shame and regret, mourning the loss of what I now know to be imaginary. It actually happened late last year when I was forced to sever ties with a collective that was very important to me, because of behaviour I found to be morally reprehensible. It also happened two years prior to that, when a former best friend and I had an explosive disagreement, which resulted in him kicking me out of his home at 3am with no way to get back to my house. 

And so here I am. Almost exactly where I was before I met my former partner, before I found myself in that collective. In my bedroom, on my bed, alone, talking to myself and imagining what it would be like to be surrounded by true love, community and friendship. 

In some ways, it makes me sad that I am here again. I thought the older I got the easier it would become to forge genuine relationships. To not find myself in these overly dramatic situations, that typically result in me coming out looking like a giant villain. But it hasn't gotten easier, it has gotten a lot more complex, layered and difficult.

When i first discovered the final layer of betrayal by the hands of my former partner the first (and only) person I told and shared my hurt with was a man I have come to refer to as The Oracle. Through voice-notes and texts, The Oracle and I often work through our feelings about the various misadventures life will either gently place or furiously toss in our direction, and try our best to support each other.  At a point in my sharing my hurt with The Oracle, I fell into a space where I began to ask myself some very difficult questions - Is there something wrong with me? Am I unloveable? Undateable? An Undesirable friend? 

I have tried to run away from those thoughts my entire life. Questions that can often work to be self fulfilling prophecies. My mother has always told me that words and thoughts have molding power. So if you imagine yourself to be undesirable or even ask the question "Am I?" then you have created the space, the moment, the power for you to be that. Although I intellectually understand and agree with that, the path of my life continuously throws me back into a space of wonder. 

With my 30th birthday barley two years away, I can no longer avoid this question - I must examine it. This wonder I have within me, about why, who I am and other people have always seemed to be so incredibly incompatible. 

I love people. I love relationships. I love friendships. I love love. I am so filled with love that I am overwhelmed more often that not. I require deep and long periods of solitude in order to remain balanced and healthy. I am so fragile and so hard, and so many things that I wish I wasn't but I am also so grateful and so honoured that I am. 

All of this, and all of me has always gotten me into trouble. Has always pushed people out of my life. Has always made me feel less than. Has always shown me that in really simple ways I am undesirable as a lover, friend, community member. That me, Alicia, am only useful and joyous and wanted in theory, but never in the flesh. And if I am to accept that. Accept that I am only useful and joyous in theory, how am I to continue to exist?

But then perhaps I am meant to exist in this way.

Merely as a tool for others to find themselves. To explore themselves. To serve as a moving theory. A tangible theory. But never as a full human being. Perhaps if I adjust my expectations of people around me. Perhaps if I no longer seek love and community and friendship - I will cease to experience such waves of devastation. 


I have no idea what the answer is or if I am just merely dramatically wallowing and I shall simply feel better about my place in the world in a few weeks. But for now, everything feels tight. I don't feel wanted in any space. And I am so unbelievably disappointed in people. 

I've hit a wall of sorts. I no longer want to give. I want to be still. I want to observe. I want to be least in company.

I want... but I am unable.