If it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, then why is the broken hearts club so huge? Bigger still is the community of steadfast lesbians and frustrated, moody chaste women who refuse to shave their legs. A life lived in fear is a life half lived yet if you throw caution to the wind and carpediem then you end up jumping into the fire for leaping without looking. A union between a man and a woman is supposed to be the most natural yet the only one in my experience that leaves you with such unnatural pain. If it’s better to have loved and lost and loved fiercely I have, then why does each love come with months of brokenness and years of loneliness for a yearlong love affair? It’s always puzzled me how cupid never seems to synchronise his shots and does not hit two people with their opposing poison. You always love the one person that brings you to your knees because though they are there for a short time they never really stay. They always venture out to find their kryptonite. There is always that one person that brings you to your knees and discards years of experience wisdom and strength. Yes it’s that person that can make a doctor sniff that deadly white powder to connect on a “higher” level with his mismatched queen. Or that one person that will allow a women’s rights activist to get bruised and abused by her lover. Why is it that the one person who brings you to your knees with every cut, break or bruise he inflicts upon your willing soul, that same person whom you cannot muster any strength to break away from. After each lash of pain, you get angry as you swear you will never go back to him yet days later like a druggy going cold turkey it’s you who goes knocking at his door begging him for one more chance, one more hit, he swears things will be different this time not like the other million times yet your craving for this dangerous love forces you into this black hole. How does a grown woman behave like a hormonal adolescent drowning in puppy love for the first time? The concept of understanding What Joshua Kaddison told us all those years ago, that when “Jesse paints her picture about how it’s gonna be, by now you should know better, those dreams are never free”. I always wondered how people can’t spot the difference between a dreamer and a manipulator, and worse yet how the manipulatee falls into the rut of being manipulated time and time again. And this person that will bring you to your knees does not go by a certain appearance or frequent particular mannerisms. It’s your own demons that you battle with and for many of us, we are still on our knees begging and pleading with our demons to set us free. With bruised and bleeding knees, that drug, that man, that woman, that behaviour and that vice holds us by merely a thread of our hair yet we cannot and will not rise. Once we do though some of us realise how weak the grasp was all along but it was merely our own fear that convinced us it was shackles. And for many of us we manage to get up for a while... sometimes a long while but the realisation of the weak hold our demons have, is what drives us to go back. Like the smoker that is convinced he is not addicted because he can quit at anytime. After all he did quit 5 times in 10 years..... Right?
By Cindy Bonelle
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