DON'T SPEAK; I CAN HEAR YOU OR: I'VE SEEN THOSE ENGLISH DRAMAS TOO, THEY'RE CRUEL

My writing, again from The creativity of the mess we make. I haven't really edited it, but anyway, whatever, I don't have time:

"For all intents and purposes, we are who we are at the end of the day, when we turn the lights off and put ourselves to bed; two complicated, possibly fraught, human beings, splendid in our originality but incompatible in a supposed companionship. Oh, there was common ground, but it would not have been easy to find; it would have been a compromise and that compromise would always have been mine. Perhaps because of my gender, the society or simply because of my nature, I would always have been the one who would have to go to him; I would have passed the “meet halfway” sign and walked all the way by myself; perhaps cursing under my breath, perhaps despairing, definitely with my eyes open to what this would do to me, the toll it would take on me, but we wouldn’t have questioned it; not openly at least. My desire to not fight, to not disagree, to let things pass, to let it go, would have won oh so many victories over my real self-perseverance and the screaming need to say fuck you rather than fuck me (in order to make it all better, to make it go away). But eventually, my reluctance to do this, to walk that distance, would have caused an ever bigger rift between us than the fact that I had walked it alone all along would. And that rift, that gap, the resentment and contempt it holds, would have broken my heart more severely that just tagging along would ever do. And that is why I can never see myself in a relationship: as long as I am not in one, I don’t lose myself.

The funniest, in the “saddest”, “weirdest” sense of the word, is that I could be talking about any boy I have ever thought I loved."

- The creativity of the mess we make, Julia Melin