You know that feeling when it’s all gone wrong again. The second person you were with seemed so different from the first but strangely as time progressed seemed to act more like the person you last knew, having been so different when you first met. You can’t believe you’ve done it to yourself – again.
So many have been here. The haven we thought our feelings had has now become a prison . Same jailor in a different suit or frock, unmasked, unpacked. Exposed for what they are. From frying pan to fire .How could we do it to ourselves ? “Men are all the same” or “Women let you down” .The breeze becomes a gale. There seems more night than day and hope is on the run. So different at the start, more charming and at ease. As weeks turned into months those features we so feared reared their head again. Same person different name and body. The weariness we feel is more than we can bare. It’s worse than losing faith in them . We’re losing faith in us.
Sometimes it’s worse than that. More than horrible, or perhaps we’ve spent it all. The capital of understanding which we enjoyed. We have to get away. The mess we made or found is everywhere and we must start again. A new job or a town; A different country perhaps but leave we must. That unresolved mess we drag round in our hearts has reared it’s head again. for somehow, as we so often do, we met the person that we know, not the one we need . They seemed so different at first , more charming and at ease. They made a fuss of us and gave us special treats. But gradually as weeks stretched into months those traits we feared appeared out of a dream.
Once there, in that new place, lets say it’s many miles away or in another country. It was that bad. We sit in our new home and unpack those things we could not leave behind The clothes, the photographs some knickknacks from our past and get to work. Connecting with the new. We have no reputation or expectation here.We can start it all again but then we find out the truth that hurts.Wherever we go we always take ourselves. You cannot run from that.
When you unpack your character always looks the same and slowly the life you left behind is rebuilt by what you have inside. You can always move but you cannot run away. In life we all have several suitcases.They are our characteristics: . With the right person we can unpack more than most but , wherever we are some always remain unpacked, or so I thought . Not the same ones every time. . The frustration of never being yourself made you angry. Sometimes the leaver and sometimes the left,
One day, wherever you may be, as happened to me. I met someone who fitted with my soul. Whatever I had she had room for. Cases I hardly knew I had were brought out to the light: opened and explored. There seemed so many cases I was more and more surprised, but she didn’t seem to worry at the mess. “Lets get it out and well sort it as we go”. I didn’t really know what was going on. But then at last I knew. I had come home. No need for cases now.