At first I thought of celebrating…a power of habit…I liked this day…why, oh why?! It’s just doesn’t make sense. I even didn’t get to celebrate it with him for the last few years of our life together – he always was elsewhere at this time…just happened this way. Yet I would still celebrate by doing something special…so what if it was by myself, for myself…*sigh* I do not know why I bothered, but somehow this day felt special, really special…
I had all sorts of swinging moods today about what to do with the day this time. It certainly didn’t need to be remembered even, yet along to be celebrated…and what exactly do you want to celebrate, my dear? It’s all phoney, a make-believe tale I’m stuck in, a little white lie as if I really do have something to celebrate and be happy about…but it would’ve been 25 silver years and for some reason it feels as if I'm being robbed of what was mine by well deserved rights. I was proud of how far we came. We both made this way real for the both of us. And now it is all degraded to one little piece of paper that says “annulled by mutual consent”. And I couldn’t even look at it since it was delivered in my house. It was banished to the loft, never to be seen again. Ironically it had to be this time exactly, a year after, when I had to fetch the paper to get it translated for some official request. I hate this paper, it lies. It claims as if it was my wish. It makes me as blameworthy as him. It lets him to get away nice and clean without guilt because it is official – we did it by mutual consent. The paper lies right in my face and hides and twists the truth…like everything about my marriage turned out to be a lie, the final paper seals it solid. And I’m here, on my knees carefully picking up, one by one, the shards and pieces of my life while he is celebrating his without a single pang of conscience that he did something wrong…well, maybe he didn't...maybe I just saw it all in my dreams, I do not know anymore... I’ve changed my mind about this day maybe about dozen times and finally I went and bought white flowers, my favourite. And I know this is a step back, an obstacle in moving forward…but at that moment I wanted to rub skin deep this painful lesson, so that maybe I will finally begin to learn.
I had all sorts of swinging moods today about what to do with the day this time. It certainly didn’t need to be remembered even, yet along to be celebrated…and what exactly do you want to celebrate, my dear? It’s all phoney, a make-believe tale I’m stuck in, a little white lie as if I really do have something to celebrate and be happy about…but it would’ve been 25 silver years and for some reason it feels as if I'm being robbed of what was mine by well deserved rights. I was proud of how far we came. We both made this way real for the both of us. And now it is all degraded to one little piece of paper that says “annulled by mutual consent”. And I couldn’t even look at it since it was delivered in my house. It was banished to the loft, never to be seen again. Ironically it had to be this time exactly, a year after, when I had to fetch the paper to get it translated for some official request. I hate this paper, it lies. It claims as if it was my wish. It makes me as blameworthy as him. It lets him to get away nice and clean without guilt because it is official – we did it by mutual consent. The paper lies right in my face and hides and twists the truth…like everything about my marriage turned out to be a lie, the final paper seals it solid. And I’m here, on my knees carefully picking up, one by one, the shards and pieces of my life while he is celebrating his without a single pang of conscience that he did something wrong…well, maybe he didn't...maybe I just saw it all in my dreams, I do not know anymore... I’ve changed my mind about this day maybe about dozen times and finally I went and bought white flowers, my favourite. And I know this is a step back, an obstacle in moving forward…but at that moment I wanted to rub skin deep this painful lesson, so that maybe I will finally begin to learn.