I am still at work, but I have finished for today. I still need to guarantee my presence for half an hour, so here I am.
Sometimes I fear that once my mother will be dead, I will be dead too. Despite the fact that she does not really love me, not in the real sense of love. She was an abused child, so she never learned how to love a child. She was neglected, abandoned, rejected, and this is the reason why now she is so cruel to me. I live my life in the hope to make her have a heart, and even if I know that I will never succeed I still keep trying, again and again, with all my energy. I often speak about partners, but I know that as long as my mother is alive I most probably never have one. My mother takes all my attention, and she is very jealous. The marriage between her and my father is a disaster. My father is a selfish, cantankerous old man, and I guess that even when he was young he has never been a good husband. My mother wants to protect me against having a husband. She does not say it directly, but she makes me feel it and understand it. She sometimes say things like “never marry, for God’s sake” or “stay away from men, they are just troublemakers”. Well, I agree: men are troublemakers, but I do not run the danger of falling for a man, since I like women. Maybe my becoming a lesbian was influenced by these messages of hatred for men my mother always addressed to me. I do not hate men, I just ignore them and consider them a side effect of nature. But when I see my father, I cannot help myself from despising him somehow.
I always had the tendency to love the ones who hurt me. If someone seems to love me, I suppose it must be a fake. I guess there has been a man, just one, who once fell in love with me. He was a naif, but nice boy, and I was a girl wanting some normality. He ran after me for months with a constancy that eventually led me to give him a chance. It was funny, we had a relationship without sex for a couple of months. It was before I met, online, the man with whom I had my only serious relationship with a male. I must admit that I enjoyed the time with that guy, even if I did not love him. I liked him, as a good friend, as a companion, as a mate. But his insisting on kissing me or touching me was nasty, even if understandable. He wanted me as his girlfriend. I played games with him. But he played games with me. He was of the opinion that he had to make me jealous to make me surrender to his alleged charme, so he met with other girls in the evening, when I was at home. So, I pictured to have a friend, living far away, and I built a web of lies around this inexistent but very well constructed story, and eventually it was him getting jealous. Of an imagined friend that, in reality, did not even exist. Needless to say, I got bored of lies after a while and I left this “boyfriend” I did not want to share my life with.
Life taught me how to be a liar very soon. It was my defense against an intrusive mother and I started building castles of lies around everything from childhood on. No wonder I could be so good at lying to my mate and also to my male partner. I lied and I cheated on him, as a response to his lying and cheating on me. Then, we parted. I guess that the day in which someone will let me live without the need to lie, that will be the day in which I will have found someone who really loves me. I am sick and tired not to be able to tell the truth, to be forced to hide, in shame, in the shadow. This is not the way I want to live my life. At least not with my close relatives or my partner. If a remote acquaintance does not know everything about me, it is understandable; but the people who are close to me should know about my person and be ok with it, or tell me how I can become better, what I can do to improve myself, but on the whole I should be accepted.
Lies and rejection seem to be my best friends even more than loneliness.