Soul seeks mate

Thanks to NotAPunkRocker I decided to answer the question of Daily Post:

How do you define the term “soulmate,” and do you believe in the existence of such a person — for you?

It’s confession time!

Maybe the cliché that “it will come when you least expect it” is true after all. As you might remember, I didn’t end up going to Russia last year. It broke my heart, it killed my trust in administration, it ruined my summer. I genuinely feared staying in Belgium. And of course, that’s when the magic happened. It wasn’t by far as terrible as I thought it would be, staying in my own little country, and I met someone. Someone nice. Someone pretty. Someone I could talk with.

So – boom! – we got a kind of couple. Kind of, because we both wanted to go study abroad. Only a few months and we would go our own way. That was the deal. It was a good deal, I thought. Then I went to Poland, did several stupid things and realised that I had been so lucky to meet The Belgian One. You don’t always meet someone that respects you so much and that you can trust. Actually, that is a little miracle for me. I seem to attract guys that will let me down by ignoring me. But with The Belgian One, I felt at peace. It was all calm. I knew he wouldn’t do that to me. He’s one of the best guys I have ever met.

Too bad I was in Poland.

But then I returned. We saw each other again, and – boom! – it felt better than before. Something in me seemed to have changed, which made our Thing just better. Still not official, but better than before. This was so unexpected. Who could have foreseen that we would see each other again? I never thought it would happen, let alone as good as this. Although it also woke up a hell lot of fear in me, it was actually really, really good. Really calm, still.

Then I went to Russia, and – boom! – I suddenly discovered that my head is faithful. I don’t want to go and try to find another one. I don’t want to take the risk of doing stupid things again. But with my faithful heart, I don’t feel any pressure to seduce or attract people. I will not make the same mistakes again. Instead I’m looking forward to seeing The Belgian One again, and I think he wouldn’t mind seeing me again either.

I guess you could say I fell in love.

I’m not sure if I could call him a soul mate. Some of my friends seem to have more similar souls and minds than The Belgian One and I. We do seem to have something in common about our way of thinking, which I guess is more important than sharing interests and hobbies. No one knows what the future will bring though. It’s very well possible that he’ll meet someone else, someone who seems to be more of a soul mate to him. (That’s something I actually fear.) There’s also a chance that we’ll see each other again and it will be exactly the same, but a little better than before. Maybe we are soul mates. Maybe love does come when you least expect it. *fill in another cliché*

The heart is a complicated thing, moving in its own way. We will see what happens, but for now I enjoy the thought that somewhere, someone every now and then thinks of me and decided to talk to me.

Will you find your other half?

According to Plato, people are always one half of a unity. Once we were cut in half, and from that point on we are searching for our other half. Isn’t that romantic? It means there is someone who can make you complete, someone who is perfect for you.

I think many Hollywood movies are based upon this idea. The idea of “true love”, the One and Only. There is this one person you should find to find perfect happiness. This one person who will make it all worth it. The One.

I don’t know if I ever believed that theory. When I was younger, I developped a pragmatic view on love. Romantic stuff didn’t appeal to me. Pink hearts? Fluffy teddybears holding the letters I LOVE YOU? No, thanks. Watching the sunset together, long strolls on the beach. All of this never seemed to attract me. Maybe I was just trying to be ‘tough’. It is very well possible that I just didn’t want to be the girly-girl, but more the rational girl. Add to this that it hurts less when you don’t go all romance and head over heels.

Maybe it’s just my nature, who I am. For a part, I’m convinced that I am way too rational to believe in an ‘other half’. Since I’ve been thinking quite a lot about ‘love’ and finding a good guy recently, I inevitably got stuck on the question: is there a One and Only? As I see it, love is merely the product of circumstances. I don’t think there is one perfect partner for you, no matter what happens. Wouldn’t it be too good that almost everyone end up finding the One? Would there really be a plan to make you meet your other half? I have a hard time believing that such a thing is true.

And yet, you never know.
Do you think there is this one perfect person for you? Is true love real, or just a fairy tale we like to believe?

My very first heartbreak

Did you know you can really die because of heartbreak? That’s something serious. It’s nothing to laugh with – it defeats you mentally and makes you a weaker pray for death.

Then again – sometimes it is a bit funny. My very first heartbreak is something I can laugh with now, and I’ve decided to share it with you.

This is a story that took place when I was six or seven years old. At that age, I didn’t even do ballet. Can you imagine that? I did attend a folk dance class. But okay, that doesn’t really matter now. I was very young back then, but somehow I have always managed to take myself completely serious. I guess it was no different back then. At that age, I in fact did have a boyfriend. Oh yes. I don’t know what we did back then though. I suppose we kind of made a deal – ‘okay, so we’re together now’ – and held hands. Or something. What do you do with a boyfriend when you’re six? I don’t remember.

I don’t remember because I only have one recollection of this relationship that was without a doubt very serious business. That recollection is of my heartbreak. One day I came to school and my boyfriend, attending the same school as I did, refused to talk to me. Or look at me. He just ignored my existence. Of course I didn’t understand. It was more than that – I was devastated. I remember watching the older kids, of whom I thought they were very old and wise. Needless to say they were as childish as you are at age 12. They were playing with a ball, and I was watching them and thinking ‘how can they possibly be happy?’. I couldn’t find that happiness within myself anymore, and it was impossible for me to imagine being happy ever again. My best friend tried to comfort me, but I don’t think it worked.

That’s one real heartbreak. I guess I’ve always remembered it because of that feeling of never being able to smile again. That’s something heavy to feel when you’re six or seven.
Later on my boyfriend declared that he was testing me – thank you, darling – and everything was fine again. Until we no longer were together, I suppose.

*Fast forward*

Fourteen years later on, where are we both now? Thanks to Facebook that’s not hard to figure out. Apparently he has an obsession with kayaking nowadays, and he’s still single. I do believe he’s already working. As for me? I’m going to college, have an obsession with dancing and am still single. But honestly, I don’t think he’s my type after all…

For once and for all

The moment you know exactly what you should do, but you don’t. The moment you know you should turn around and leave, but you stay. You stay and kill your conscience. Living in the moment, but not in the good way.
The feeling you should wave him aside and you don’t. Because you can’t really miss it. And you want more. So you stay, just to get more of this. Even though it’s certainly not good for you. And you know it.

But you stay.


I’m not good at saying ‘no’. If I want something, I want it now, immediately. There are times I really think about the future, but sometimes, I don’t care. What matters is that I’ve got the chance now to feel like someone cares, so Iwant to take the opportunity. There’s nothing as addicting as feeling like someone cares about you. Affection is probably the worst drug.
It’s easier to see myself as a victim that way. After we had met, it quickly became clear that this would lead to nothing. You can’t keep up the enthusiasm if you never meet each other, so I was sort of prepared for it to fade out, which it did. I truly believed we wouldn’t meet again, and above all, I believed it didn’t matter for him whether he saw me or not. I was like the optional part in his life. Which doesn’t mean it didn’t matter to me when it all really faded out.
But things changed again. We met again. It mattered again. At least it seemed to be that way. I was never sure though; was I being pathetic? Did he actually like me? Did he care? And how was I supposed to find out when we would never meet on purpose, when all we did was meeting at night by chance? I was constantly balancing between something and nothing. The voice of reason in my head was pretty clear: this is bullshit. He doesn’t care and never will, so stop wasting your time on it.

But how tempting it is to feel like  someone cares… So I killed that voice of reason, ignored it, burnt it down. Sort of. That’s when things only got worse. If someone brings you a teddy bear in the middle of the night, wouldn’t you think you weren’t just optional? That you mattered to him? When he leaves his friends for you, wouldn’t you think there would be coming more than just another night of drinking together?
Maybe I’m just wrong.
Or maybe he’s just an asshole who in fact never cared and who just tried to take advantage of me. At least the voice of reason in my head made sure I wouldn’t do anything too stupid, that would make it all the more confusing afterwards.
You know, after that, when it all faded out again. I returned to optional. Everything started to be ‘a long time ago’. We didn’t even meet at night anymore. You can’t live on nothing and so this died.

Of course I liked the nights with too much beer, cigarettes, him and his friends. But they weren’t quite healthy and mostly they made the morning after pretty hard. I shouldn’t blame him for the fact that I drank and stayed up such a long time, but he certainly didn’t help. His bad habits were slowly changing into mine too. It was all quite addicting, and that’s why I would never have made it stop myself. He was the one who let it fade away.

It’s probably better for you to have the source of addiction removed. But I truly hope I will see him again someday, just to show him what he misses and that I won’t be tricked again by him. Because really, I should have stopped you from using me this way, but while I couldn’t, you should have ended this twisted something right away. Like you subtly, vaguely said you would. But you didn’t.

So sincerely: fuck you.

In this context, please don’t interpret this song as a song on BDSM. Thank you.
Related posts:

* To get me out
* Running over the same old ground…

* Beauty in the breakdown
* To darkness and to me

Running over the same old ground…

For those who know where to look, my stories are sprinkled over this blog. You should be able to reconstruct everything that’s happened by reading it all the right way. I’d love to tell the entire story as it is, clearly, without vagueness. But to protect other people’s privacy and my own, I can’t do that. Sometimes, when randomly rereading parts of my diary, I realize how strangely interwoven everything can be, and how weird overall. You wouldn’t make this kind of things up, I believe. Especially I wouldn’t, because no one died ;).

And now I’m at home while I should be in class, because I’ve got a headache (ouch ouch), and I’m thinking about my crappy life. No, that’s not true. My life isn’t crappy. Though we’re running over the same old ground again. But I’m smarter now and I know what to expect – nothing. It’s a lot easier to be happy when you are sure about what to expect. No more begging for what’s lost, I once wrote. Soon everything will be just like before… Unless life decides to fool me again. I know I won’t resist, but all along, what does it matter?

I will get rid of the headache and somehow, everything will turn out right. Maybe it’s all come to an end already. The future will tell, and perhaps one day I’ll tell you the entire story.

Bond, old Bond

Some random surfing got me to this video of Solitaire and James bond meeting each other in one of the many Bond films. I did my best to follow the Russian translation, but man alive, it was fast! Anyway, this video is so old and therefore cute…

A gun for a lover


Don’t speak, my dear, I beg you.
The walls have eyes and they are watching us. Hush, my dear, before they find us, before they start closing in.

You believe in the power of love. I believe in the power of guns. It’s heavy in my hand, and it’s not even loaded yet. Its time will come. The sun is burning, my love, but I don’t know if you feel it. You know I will find you, in your cave or cage. Wherever you are, I will hunt you down.

I walk on. I believe devils exist. One of them is watching over me since my guardian angel gave up. He knew it was all in vain and left me. He walked away. I’m walking away. Sand, sand everywhere. And the sun is burning like fire, my love. Soon from now you’ll feel what it is to burn. The bullet in my gun. The bullet in your head. The sunlight dies. The night is coming. But I won’t stop searching, my love. You’ve run away, but I will find you. You left me, but I will find you.

Nothing will hold me back. I scream your name, my love. Maybe you hear me and cringe at the sound of revenge. Are you hiding behind this wall? It’s not a safe wall. The wind could easily blow it away. And then you’d be powerless. The bullet in my gun. The bullet in your head. I’m trembling of anger, pure hate for you. How could you…? How could you leave me like that? If I ever see your pretty face – I hit the wall – it won’t be pretty anymore.

Sometimes, I cannot hold it any longer. Then I smash walls and hearts and thoughts. All because of you, my love, and when I’ll find you, you’ll be smashed too.

Sounds. There are always sounds, even though it’s silent here.

We won’t survive. That’s one thing I know. He’ll find us. He’ll find us, the thought scares me. We’re already at his mercy. The walls are closing in.


Don’t you ever want to shoot the pain away? It seems so impossible that you still love him. Love is always over in the morning. By now, you should be drowning in regret. Face the truth, my love!  Soon it will be over. Your prayers are worthless and won’t save you. Can you already hear me shouting your name? The walls must be trembling, like you are too. Face me.
A bullet in my gun.

A shot for the pain inside.

Read the lyrics when hearing the song!

The song is one of my favourite songs ever. Powerful, poetic and just great. Especially combined with the lyrics this song is mind blowing, and way better than my story.

Mist (part 1)

A fight! I thought there were no fights here. Apparently, I was wrong. A few of them drunk men started yelling and pushing and before I even noticed, things went wrong and they started fighting. A fight, and she stood right next to it. She, a young girl, but not a child, long and absolutely different from the women of my age. They are so vast and focused on having babies and a house and everything. They are nothing like that girl here anymore, they are too human. They have nothing of this mysterious looks anymore. Nothing of this eyes and attitude and all these things that make her so beautiful. She is the most elegant woman present here, and she has this look in her eyes as if she knows what we’re thinking.
It’s not the first time she’s here. I’ve seen her several times already, and every time I do, she seems to look better, she seems to move more elegant and she seems to look at me as if I’m worth it.
Like I’m not too old for her! Like I deserve to know a girl like her. She’s simply too young and too mysterious to talk to. Unless there’s a good reason of course. Suddenly, one of the men fighting steps backwards, unstable due to alcohol. She hasn’t seen him coming, he pushes her back and she falls. Bad thing. Good part: she falls straight in my arms as I jumped forward to rescue her from a violent death.

Now, she should turn her head, she should see me and she should smile shyly. Then, she should murmur ‘thank you’ before rising and saying ‘thank you’ more firmly.
We’d live happily ever after.

Reality turns out to be slightly different. She falls into my arms, yes, and I feel her fragility and I almost sigh due to the feeling. She rises immediately, with her hand still on my shoulder, and says ‘thank you’ firmly right away. Then, her hand no longer on my shoulder, and a bit shyer, another ‘thank you’. Her eyes look everywhere, except in mine. Don’t turn around to join your friends again. Don’t walk away at all. Stay here. Talk.

“You’re lucky to have a guardian angel”, I say.
“I am.” She smiles. She doesn’t want to walk away either.
“I even have a phone number for emergencies, if you need it.” I am too bold. I should not say these things. What else could I do though, when standing in front of her fascinating beauty.
“Actually, I live a pretty safe life”, she says.
“Oh well, guardian angels can pay drinks as well, if you do have a thirsty life”, I dare to say. If she now walks away, I’ll never talk to her again. If she doesn’t accept the offer, I will let her live her life and I’ll go rotting in my own corner like old men should do.
“Well, I would like a drink”, she says.

I pay her a beer. We sit together and talk. Innocently, from the outside. I could have been someone her parents know. But I’m not a grandfather. And she’s not a child. I’m gentle and don’t do anything but talking to her. And she does nothing to attract me. It’s just chatting but we both seem to know that ‘chatting’ is not the appropriate word. She’s clever. She has to know what I’m up to (though I won’t harm her, how should I?). The impossibility of fathoming her. Very much like mist she talks and tells nothing.

Could I have foreseen that this talking would be the beginning of destruction? Or what should I call it? The ache of desire and even worse, the ache of seeing it slipping away.

Luck is a loaded gun

I always dress up for occasions like this one. Some shiny fabric, nice makeup and high heels will do the job. It’s worth it right? This isn’t just daily pleasure. This is more. Still, even when dressed up people don’t pay attention to me. They ignore me. But when I’m no longer there, they start to miss me, beg for me to return. How come they can’t see me when I’m there? Every now and then a stray look. Nothing more than that.

This time, it isn’t very different. I enter the cafe right behing her, with the gun in my hand. Another thing no one pays attention to. Are you all blind? The girl I’m following is a quite regular girl, wearing a black dress. Although no one notices, I know that it’s a wonderful dress. Mind the workmanship. She loves it.
Further on, she has dark brown hair, almost black, and eyes with an undefined colour. I can’t say she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, but why would that matter? Why would Fate mind looks? I sit down next to her and her friends in the warm cafe.

There’s the boy. He isn’t close enough but after all these years I know exactly what to do. It’s all a matter of composition, really. A slight push here, a soft kick there and people move and you’ll get them where you want them. Where you need them. Could it be any easier? I force him to get closer. While doing so, I see his eyes, so damn beautiful. I know she’ll love it. She’ll love it and then regret it all. That’s how things go. You do something, and then the regret. How can you keep on dealing with it? I never regret something, ’cause I only do what needs to be done. I fulfill Fate. That is what I believe.

They see each other. They smile. I can see them both hoping for a chat, for some small talking. When two people want to talk, they will. It only becomes a problem when one of them doesn’t want to. It doesn’t take too long for them to find a way. Some banal topic. This is the point where I take her hand. I know she’s slightly aware of it. But she’s thinking way more about him and how she’s talking and what she’s saying. I’m only a detail and in fact she’s a bit afraid. Will I stay or leave? She can’t know. But I stay. I always stay longer than people expect.

It starts to get very cosy over here. The chatting goes very well. The exchanging looks are so obvious that you wonder why they don’t just go outside and you know, have fun. But no, people like to wait some longer. As if they don’t know how fast the tide turns. They just don’t realize. I soflty rise my hand and hold the cold gun against her head. This time, I’m sure she ignores me. She doesn’t want to feel. And I know why.

The door of the cafe opens again and along with the icy wind a girl enters. You can immediatly see her determination as she walks up to our boy, sitting in front of our girl, chatting. Our girl turns her head to the other girl and my gun moves with her, but it doens’t leave her temple, not a single second. This is an important moment, it needs my focus. I need to hear the moment, you know. It’s really a soft creaking sound. You cannot see it in their faces, but if you listen well, you can hear the sound of sudden despair.

The girl embraces our boy with her eyes fixing our girl, who suddenly feels weak.
“Well, hello”, the girl says. “Making friends?” She doens’t sound very enthusiastic nor interested. She’s scanning our girl to find the possible danger. And our girl shrinks and waits.
“Yes”, the boy anwers, and kisses the girl, whose eyes finally let our girl go.

I pull the trigger.