I remember very much when I became a man who changed.
I remember very much when I became a man who changed. As it came out, that period of our joint life I felt like quite happy. I remember, was the end of August, still gentle-warm in the evening, Moscow is not rejoiced and empty, the child – in a grandmother in another country at sea, and we, by purchasing each other for the waist, the first long-awaited seasonal watermelon.
The next day, the building collapsed inside me. It was my personal eleventh of September. The feeling of unbearable pain shock was completed by the schizophrenicity of the situation – it turned out, intuition is completely dysfunctional, because I was gentle, empathic, smart, attentive, dynamic – but my flair is stacking. I am old slant mechanical clocks, in which all the arrows go to different sides with wild speed, and the cuckoo does not boil.
I came home, it was not, and on the screen of his computer burned outdoor active chat, and I read. Before vomiting.
It turns out – the brain told me – you are not only a bad wife, but also a bad mother, because Maternity – essentially flair, and your flair does not work. Do not ask how one clings for another, just with us, women inclined, as I am then – to the addiction, so. The building collapses the whole. And then you are dead and bloody in dust, at the bottom of this depression that you can actually – in Durku.
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But I could not even realize it, it seemed to me that everything was almost ok, and I transferred a monstrous destructive depression on my legs, built a career and laughed at something with friends. And inside was only ash. We did not part. I went roof. Accounts absolutely to me women I began to check more often than your. It looked like driving the nails in the head. He successfully convinced me that I myself was to blame for the presence of these nails in my head. Perhaps now, after five years of stubborn psychotherapy, I would have been able to give myself a congestion or even support, or even find the words of consolation, but then – of course, no. In response to betrayal, I destroyed myself.
Then we went to the years, we tried to be together, and I again encountered this invite to hell – "How do you survive it to betray, asya?" You will show what you know, or not? Need to be able to not show what you know. Ironize what you know? Dont know. Never look into his phone (now I can never look in anyone’s phone – idiotic senseless skill)
If you live in a relationship where there is a direct or indirect treason, you will gain a bunch of absolutely meaningless stupid and evil skills. Be able to switch to other people’s regime. Do not talk for a week and not suffer. Be on one party separately. Provocate a partner with the help of your publications. Flirt with others with it. Sophisticated to humiliate. Change yourself. Do it sadly. Designated. Fun and innogenous.
Years later, it turned out that the very first is crystal clear and shock – the reaction to treason and was the only healthy. Other "Less painful" Experiments and trying "agree with you", As well as a variety of ways to correct the situation, sacrificing in turn, then the biscuit, then the spleen, then a piece of brain – all this way to madness.
I remember, I lived on a samotone on a high hill, I saw from the balcony as the street rushes down. And once again experiencing it to betray, I visualized my feeling like a bloody pink foam, which flows out of my cut throat and drips from the balcony – on the sidewalk, from there – down the street, which is becoming stronger and turns into a river that pours all Moscow. Moscow for me – the city is filled with my blood. The city that knows how I am in the highest point of despair. The city in front of which I was ashamed.
As for progress in relations and a recent column of my girlfriend, which I could not even read, suffocating from pain, then I have only two thoughts.
1. If you change – part.
2. If you change – part. Do not keep you hostage. That is what – not honest.
3. If you change, but afraid to part, which, in my opinion, is monstrous, then make your partner never, under any circumstances, you really know that you truth change. Do not admit to the last and do not confess even under the pistol don. And then you turn out more.
Because there are wounds, from which it is simply impossible to cure. And you live with them later, like an asshole, although everything is long in the past. I write, and fingers shake.