Empty existence- My adventures with Mr. Hodgkin

Loving him was like admiring the dance of the teeming maggots in a mellow cherry. Beautiful sight, sweet flavours, but really everything was rotten inside. This knowledge didn’t arrive to me with the years, even then I saw exactly that everything was a lie, just worthless pretence, but I couldn’t let it go, I couldn’t accept that it couldn’t be true. With a hard and unsaid goodbye in that morning I went on a new journey, a journey I never knew how long it would take. My referee left me, so I promoted myself and was looking for new games, as I waited for him coming back every day, and every night I wanted him to call, to write, and to go back to our little, well-created hell. But he didn’t come, he did nothing. He disappeared as if he never existed, leaving a space which was impossible to live with.

Play with me!

I thought that I would finally be happy with the freedom and I could live normal weekdays as normal people, that I could find the meaning of life without him and I could let all those pain he had caused. But I proved to be a good disciple. I thought maybe this weekend’s sacrifice would make it easier, and then the next one, or else, the next one would really be a love. Or nobody. No one left. The lack burned, hurt, I felt less every day. A new addiction woke up in me. I became as insensitive as he was. And over time, I was no longer trying to find love. I knew I was completely incapable of it. I played clearly, yet dirtier than ever. I never lied, I never told anyone I was going to be something, but like some Merlin magic, the curse came. The closer someone wanted to get to me, the farther I went. Moved away from reality, human feelings, I needed only the relief for my tortured soul. Not for a moment, no, I didn’t believe that anyone could love me or that I could love anyone except him. As I was really longing for the absolution, I was drifting further and further away from the disentanglement, from myself.

It had to be true

So much time had passed without him. He wrote to me sometimes. Sometimes he loved me, sometimes he didn’t want to hear about me. Sometimes he wanted to escape from the world with me, sometimes he felt insulted because of his family and asked me not to harass him. Sometimes he called to tell me I was really missed, sometimes he called to tell me I would never look for him again. Sometimes he looked at our photos, sometimes he wanted to delete everything. Me too. I couldn’t. Our last chance to meet was so far away. Some x-es and y-s even z-s came, but they couldn’t help me. I really hurt them all because I didn’t know who I was and desperately tried to hold onto my ability to feel. No, he couldn’t change everything, he couldn’t lie, I couldn’t believe everything, I was lost, too lost in him. Months were flying around me, people, storms rushed through my life without even noticing them, only that space, that space was hurting more and more.

My suffering went through many stages, my grief over losing him, maybe just as the cancer spreaded in my body. A spring passed, a summer passed, and I lived in perpetual denial. I didn’t need anyone, I needed everyone. I was never alone, I always felt alone. I waited, but I knew there was nothing to wait for. I longed, even though I knew he had never really made me happy. But I already believed everything, I believed it was so good and that he would come again, he would really come. But he didn’t.


And by the end of the summer I was out of my surgery, but in complete ignorance, in the pursuit of all sorts of pleasures. He promised in August that he would come that he needed me … so much. I waited all day and didn’t want to believe he was lying to me again. He said later we couldn’t have done it. Maybe he was right. And on August 29th, my first chemo was bound. He didn’t know about it, and not  for a long time. He left me, and I was really left. Blinded by that lost I couldn’t see the light, not even the tunnel. I wasn’t afraid, it didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing really mattered. For half a year I had been waiting for getting a single signal that I didn’t just imagine everything, that I wasn’t crazy. Time passed around me and I was floating through painfully empty weekdays like I was sitting in an empty jar. Dumb voices, feelings, desires were lying to one another and tore my unnecessary existence to pieces.

photo from pixabay.com

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