The Day The Glass Slippers Break

Today I cried. It was not the sad, little whimpering cry that griefs you. It was not the lengthy sobs that breaks your heart. It was a full blown cry, cried from the top of my lungs with the intensity that will disturb you. A cry that will unnerves you, that will shatter your soul. It was a pained cry of love that is lost and hope that is destroyed.

To some, I was as bright as the sunshine. Always smiling, always giving out a helping hand. A rare post in Facebook I made about how sad I am, regardless how cryptic it was, will definitely garnered comments. My latest feel-good post about myself garnered tons of likes and comments. People actually care about me. People actually smiled at me and I have rarely seen hostility towards me, even in Los Angeles. I am loved by all, by God, by world. And in return, I love them all too. Yet the only thing I wanted the most is the one thing that I cannot get.

I have always dreamed about acceptance. Being nice is great, you get to be a part of somebody's life, in a nice way. Yet from my end, it also means that I don't exactly have someone that fully shared his life with me, and vice versa. I wanted my own special someone. Someone who will accept me for who I am, and can see me past the baggage that I carry: the low self-confidence that I have in regards to my look, and the curse of being 'a nice friend'. Nice enough to keep around, but not striking enough to be kept forever and jealously guarded against others. I wanted someone that wanted me.

My husband called it co-dependence. That I am too scared to live by myself. Yet I always wonder, is it wrong to want to love someone and be loved back?

He was my dream come true. I showered him with attention, spoiled him with love. Flowers on special days, special gifts and surprises now and then, always striving to make his life comfortable. It is not hard to see how much I adore him. And yes, he loved me too. Yet the love slowly wanes. Throughout the short time we're together, I can see his interest in me fade like the spring that turned into winter. I was there, a comfort for him, but not an apple in his eyes anymore. I don't even know what he sees in me anymore, but judging from the fights we have, apparently not much.

To sums up some of his opinion on me: I am a disgrace for sleeping so casually (before I even met him) with a man that has ball-bearing in his penis, and with a known American playboy that prey on the women in my hometown; I disappointed him for doing nothing for the first two years I moved to US; I am stupid, selfish, and have no understanding in life of whatsoever because I came from a simple country and have not experience the things he experienced like divorced, owned and lost a house, travel to a few countries, and having kids.

To every friends that I have, I am usually looked with the highest regards. And for a good reason too, because I will strive for their happiness. I am smart, witty, fun, kind. Yet within my apartment, I am just a stupid woman that doesn't worth a single respect. There is love, sure. But it was given only when he wants to. The thought that I too need love was absurd, because haven't he gave me enough by taking me to US and allow me to leech off of him for the last 2 years? I should be more considerate of him. After all, I didn't do anything for the family. At least, that's how it seemed to be, even though the joy on his children's face whenever they saw me tells different story. 

The fights, the insults, the degrading replies are not new. I have experienced it since we started dating. The lost of love in his eyes, however, was too much to bear. It is the realization that I will never be good enough for hin that broke me down, the realization that my love, my effort had been counted for nothing. It was the finality when you tried to fix your relationship, and all you get was "Well, I have felt disconnected and disappointed in you since day one when you told me you fucked the guy you met online, the one with balls in his penis."

Not only did it happen way before I met him, I also given him that information because he asked for it. Anything I say will and has been used against me.

After today's fight, I packed my backpack with a blanket, a change of clothes for tomorrow's work, and some snacks. I was ready to spend the night, and the remainder of the nights I have to go through until I can get an appartment for myself, at the 24 hours Korean Spa near where we live. It has special women's section with showers and hot tubs and lounge room where I can spend the night(s) safely. He did not kicked me away, but I feel I can't live with him anymore.

As I sat there with my backpack, I couldn't helped but laugh at my current situation. I agreed to leave my life, my family, everything I have behind just to be with him. Yet I am the one who have to be thankful. With all his harsh words, his indifference towards me, his pursuit for a life of pleasure, with all the loneliness I have to bear, and I am the one that has to be considerate towards him. I effectively being taken away from my roots, only to be told repeatedly how low I am and left to fend off myself, and now pretty much homeless in LA.

I ended up staying at the apartment for today. I was too exhausted to go anywhere else. I don't owe him this privilege though, because I paid this month's rent and because by law he is required to provide for me since he is my visa sponsor. I have made necessary arrangement and looking forward to move out, something that he claimed "couldn't be done" because of my non-existent credit score. What do I care? If I can't get an apartment here I can always go back to Bali.

Surprisingly, I don't feel anything except deep, dark, debilitating sadness. I am not angry nor do I hate him. He is what he is. He would tell you a different story, but that's just because how he perceive things. It was the lost of my dream that saddened me: The notion that his acceptance had merely been an illusion, and I have (and always) been on my own. It's the broken wings of hopes, and now I have to walk barefoot in the cold, harsh earth. All I wanted is to love and be loved in return, and that simple hope was lit beyond my expectation only to be destroyed mercilessly. A child may not aware that he/she is killing the bug by crushing it under hi/her hands, but does the intention matter to the bug in the state that it's in?

A little over two years has passed since I first donned that glass slippers, and now it had been destroyed beyond repair. The dress turned into rag once more, and I have to walked home with shards still on my bloodied feet, wherever home is. It will be a long and lonely journey, but I am not alone. I still have you, all of you. Thanks for being with me, dear readers. Thank you so much.