I have spoken many times of my boyfriend. A wonderful guy, the silent type. Slightly misunderstood by seemingly the entire rest of the world.
I told a friend of mine the other day, it seems like just when one crisis ends, another one begins.
Relationships are always hard; personalities clash, ideas differ; even future plans aren’t always the same. But you rise above. Sometimes families get in the way, control-freak Mother has other plans for her only son, and no disabled daughter-in-law would ever do. But you rise above.
You work things out and you talk things out and you try to stay together. The trouble is, sometimes things happen that neither you nor anyone else can do anything about. The trouble is, we live in a dangerous world.
In my country, everyone has a story to tell. Be it about a corrupt policeman or an attack in their home, everyone has a story. Life is like that, you build and work at your life, your friends, your lover, but in reality you never know what’s around the next corner. All you can do is hope you and those around you are strong enough to cope.
A crisis has befallen us, and whether our relationship will survive, I don’t know. Whether I’ll see him again after this week is over, I don’t know. If I could, I would sell everything I had and move to another country, one where there is still a difference between right and wrong and freedom doesn’t depend on a bribe.
I watch him worry and stress, I see him getting angrier everyday, but there’s nothing I can do. To pledge my moral support and undying devotion will inevitably not make a difference.
Suddenly control-freak Mother doesn’t seem so bad; a difference in personality in the end is not a big thing.
I told my friend; I’m hanging on by my fingernails. In reality I’m not sure if I am strong enough to cope. At least it was my birthday last week, so for a few hours we forgot all about bad things and bad people.
We made a small fire outside under the stars, I was afraid it would rain but it didn’t. There were old friends and new friends and some people I’ve never seen before. There was wine, sherry and pizza. Stories of the good old times and what we’d really like to one day.
For a few hours we forgot we were sad and angry and scared. But our friends had to leave, the fire died out.
I wish I could look inside a magic crystal ball and see everything will be okay next week. I wish my country wasn’t such a huge disappointment. Maybe there is something like Karma; everything you do eventually catches up with you. I just wish Karma could pass us by this time.