many of us were once you....in that moment, we all believed would last a lifetime.
i've been considering writing this, since much earlier this year, when i was contacted by someone i didn't know. i listened to their experience & wished i had done so much more back then. even if no one believed me (because ex-girlfriends are always crazy, right?!). because i hadn't spoken out, this person had been hurt in ways they couldn't comprehend. (how can you really explain to someone they'll never wrap their head around someone else's behaviour, no matter how long they analyse it?) as someone, who is presumably (at least a couple of years) older than you, i have a responsibility to speak out - in the hope that you won't ever experience his hurt, in the same way that i did. this is not because i am bitter. (yes - there are definitely some things i am bitter about. that is not what i'm writing about here tho.) though really, as you are someone who does not know of this (open) letter's existence, nor that you are the recipient, i'm trusting this message will be passed along, making it's way to you, when you need it.
i believed every moment was real - until it was ended. brutally.
i believed every word of forever & the connection that i cannot put into words (you know the one i mean, the one where you know what he is feeling even though he is on the other side of the world. or he knows where to find you in a city at night - just because his gut tells him where u are - when your phone has run out of batteries). until it was severed. i was informed that the life i absolutely lived for, no longer existed. by email. not even a phone call, or skype. i had no say in it, despite committing to 'us' more than anything. i am sorry that all i had to offer, still wasn't enough.
that email delivered a message: i no longer had a right to anything. everything was removed. i was never offered an actual chance to resolve a situation i believed in wholeheartedly. partially, this is because of you. i knew of your existence before social media did. whether anyone believes it or not, my soul (& i) cried for a reason i didn't know why, that Sunday back in May, a couple of years ago. you weren't to know that i was trying to coordinate his & my meeting up somewhere in the world; to resolve what i could, to possibly gain closure. to not have it be the way it is now - completely nonexistent. you crossed his path, so i never sent the reply i'd written to his request.
i have been informed of - and have now seen evidence of - the current happiness you have & i can't, nor wouldn't, take that away from you. as another woman on this planet, i don't want you to hurt as i have.
believe in each day, in each moment. ensure that this happiness comes from inside yourself. people can affect us in incredible ways. good and bad. i am someone deeply susceptible to this. (i absolutely believed the words he spoke: soulmate, forever, his
feelings never changing. he was my fiancé, i was his tech assistant, we were partners - personally & professionally - so what wasn't there to
believe?) this guillotining of my soulmate-ship, my life partnership, my collaborative working relationship... all of those things i was committed to as much as you are now, being taken away has been the hardest lesson. it is not an experience i would welcome on anyone in a million years. i was unfortunate to be informed every moment of realness i believed in was not true & that "...you don't know anything about me and my live [sic]". i hope, in your case, that you've been granted the truth right from the start.
the end of the life that i desperately wanted & loved, also affected those around me. friends who were as shocked as i was, & who grieved, knowing i could no longer live close to them. (now separated by oceans - with no (legal) way to resolve this distance. these friends, i consider my family, who i now see only once every few years.) other friends, also lost their friendships that morning too.
while everything is incredible now & you are on top of the world together at the moment, please remember all it can take is an elbow from someone, for you to topple off. while you might believe that your life is what you make of it, realise that no-one gets to where they get to - the pinnacle or the base - without the influence of others. no one 'succeeds' from within a vacuum, or without support. none of today's refugees (adults or children) stepping onto dangerous boats to cross the Mediterranean to escape their wartorn homelands, are in their real-life life & death situation entirely of their own doing. if you believe you create everything in your life, you might also believe, if anything ever turns sour, that this is also your fault.
we all have incredible opportunities, moments of good fortune, traumas & losses of different kinds. they are not always entirely of our own doing. i have been just as lucky and cursed as anyone else in life. definitely incredibly lucky that i have had a soulmate connection with two people, as he has now too. what he & i had, meant the world to me. i can safely assume it means the world to you now.
remember that a healthy amount of questioning and trusting your gut, is something you should never shut down. if i had done, a conversation many months earlier might have brought a respectful closure to something that i never wanted to end. it might have lessened my heartache & perhaps i wouldn't have been a fool to rent two places in two cities for someone else, only to have them never arrive. instead, like the deafening slap of a palm contacting a cheek, the life i loved & lived for, was guillotined. (at least my gut instinct awoke.)
clichéd as it might be, you are the upgrade model. you have a better chance than i did. please live the life you have now to the fullest, which i expect you are, and also with your eyes open.
criticalsenses is somaya langley - an australian interested in things like ideas, art, creative practice, events & festivals, publicly available information, technology, travel, mobility and society; particularly how it all weaves together. right now she's rethinking life & wondering what next
Thursday, September 03, 2015
Friday, October 17, 2014
Monday, September 15, 2014
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
two weeks on
4th May: your words
hey ,
…..fuck somaya,i actually don´t wanna do this,reading you´r posts, sorry when i read post that´s not intended for me, but i have to give a comment on this….
i still have feelings for you…but not in the way you wanna i have…i really really wanna be still you´r friend, but i don´t think the relationship works. ...i don´t feel in the relationship wise feeling. you a really great and special person and please don't rethink about you´r plans coming to berlin and study.
i´m getting angry and unhappy when we have to talk about this. thats frustrating and hurting and killing feelings.
i always enjoyed the sex with you,really never had better one before.
i still will support you when you will come to berlin or what ever is you´r plans. i don´t wan´t that you rethink about you´r plans that bringing you forward in you´r career.
so question from me to you…really serious: can we just friends for a while?
and for you´r question of speaking about this. ...i would say october is a good month to meet somewhere in the world. maybe for a week. and then we can speak and look how we handle this.
ch
yet by the 20th May, there was her
[2012]
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
food haunting & memories
making the food of someone that has departed your life is always complicated.
it brings many memories & emotions & yet.... for whatever the reason, there are days that just seem like the right day to be doing it.
my father had a partner for several years, he built up this whole new relationship & then realised he wasn't happy. his partner was happy, and she was lovely. her son wasn't so happy. he just wanted to be with his dad, not some man who didn't want to have to spend time with him.
anyway, in between the somewhat excitement of a tween setting up a new house and family situation, after loosing my family, where i got to choose the paint for my bedroom wall (the only time i've ever been able to do that ever, given the long-running rental share-house accommodation i've ended up living in ever since...) the colour i chose was deep purple, so it kinda looked like a witchy den. but far more pristine. the only good thing about that relationship not lasting is that i soon would've come to regret the slightly oppressive colour palate i'd chosen.
when we weren't painting the walls, theresa would make pancakes with me. large round ones with slices of apple or peach laid out like the spokes of a wheel on one side of the pancake. these were delicious. and probably my best memories of that time & those people. the making of the apfelpfannkuchen. by mid-late 1991, my father had ended that relationship and i didn't really see theresa or her son alex ever again.
i must have photos of these weekend pancake mornings somewhere, badly stored, in less than desirable archival conditions.
ive been thinking a lot about this lately, the signature of those no longer a part of your life. whether by death, or heart break or otherwise... a 'signature' on so many levels.
at christmas time, christian used to make christmas cookies from his mother's recipe. he would bake a few batches and i'd try to see if i could subsist on these alone. some days, i did pretty darn fine.
we would improvise, using a vodka bottle as a rolling pin, probably not the right kind of jam, given we were doing in sydney and down the coast at a place near tilba. i'm sure that the german marmelades would have been far better for these kinds of biscuits, but i loved them all the same. they were something so special. to him, to me, to us.
then we'd cut them out with star cookie cutters, stick a layer of marmalade in between them with the tops having an extra smaller star cut out for the sticky-ness to poke thru. i never did get to make these in the winter in berlin with christian, nor make them with his mum. so many regrets. always.
as for my greek grandmother, while the thought of her synonymous is with the smell of onion or leek, frying in olive oil, the dish that she made was the mediterranean baked potato dish that seemed to be warm & tangy; tasting of lemon & tomatoes. i learnt to cook many other things with her, but that is sone thing that really stands out: an almost wabisabi flavour.
again, photos are in the 'archives'. (those dodgy archives)
a previous partner's mother made some pretty awesome meals for her kids (to which i just added myself to the cohort). the best & favourite of these was french onion soup, accompanied by the little toasty bits with melted cheese, then dunked in the soup, if i remember...
my dad wasn't the greatest cook, but he taught me the pleasures of fried cheese over a campfire and cooked tomatoes on buttery toast for breakfast on a cold dark winter morning. those two foods - tho not elaborate - will always remind me of him.
i'm wondering what my signature dish will ever be. risotto with asparagus & blanched almonds? buckets of fried halloumi at parties (not that i get to go to many of these any more as my friends are too distant/i'm too remote), or the winter full of veggie soups i regularly cooked up on a friday nite for the prez flatties. i miss those times there. i miss them & i wanna go back....
it brings many memories & emotions & yet.... for whatever the reason, there are days that just seem like the right day to be doing it.
my father had a partner for several years, he built up this whole new relationship & then realised he wasn't happy. his partner was happy, and she was lovely. her son wasn't so happy. he just wanted to be with his dad, not some man who didn't want to have to spend time with him.
anyway, in between the somewhat excitement of a tween setting up a new house and family situation, after loosing my family, where i got to choose the paint for my bedroom wall (the only time i've ever been able to do that ever, given the long-running rental share-house accommodation i've ended up living in ever since...) the colour i chose was deep purple, so it kinda looked like a witchy den. but far more pristine. the only good thing about that relationship not lasting is that i soon would've come to regret the slightly oppressive colour palate i'd chosen.
when we weren't painting the walls, theresa would make pancakes with me. large round ones with slices of apple or peach laid out like the spokes of a wheel on one side of the pancake. these were delicious. and probably my best memories of that time & those people. the making of the apfelpfannkuchen. by mid-late 1991, my father had ended that relationship and i didn't really see theresa or her son alex ever again.
i must have photos of these weekend pancake mornings somewhere, badly stored, in less than desirable archival conditions.
ive been thinking a lot about this lately, the signature of those no longer a part of your life. whether by death, or heart break or otherwise... a 'signature' on so many levels.
at christmas time, christian used to make christmas cookies from his mother's recipe. he would bake a few batches and i'd try to see if i could subsist on these alone. some days, i did pretty darn fine.
we would improvise, using a vodka bottle as a rolling pin, probably not the right kind of jam, given we were doing in sydney and down the coast at a place near tilba. i'm sure that the german marmelades would have been far better for these kinds of biscuits, but i loved them all the same. they were something so special. to him, to me, to us.
![]() |
improvisin |
as for my greek grandmother, while the thought of her synonymous is with the smell of onion or leek, frying in olive oil, the dish that she made was the mediterranean baked potato dish that seemed to be warm & tangy; tasting of lemon & tomatoes. i learnt to cook many other things with her, but that is sone thing that really stands out: an almost wabisabi flavour.
again, photos are in the 'archives'. (those dodgy archives)
a previous partner's mother made some pretty awesome meals for her kids (to which i just added myself to the cohort). the best & favourite of these was french onion soup, accompanied by the little toasty bits with melted cheese, then dunked in the soup, if i remember...
my dad wasn't the greatest cook, but he taught me the pleasures of fried cheese over a campfire and cooked tomatoes on buttery toast for breakfast on a cold dark winter morning. those two foods - tho not elaborate - will always remind me of him.
i'm wondering what my signature dish will ever be. risotto with asparagus & blanched almonds? buckets of fried halloumi at parties (not that i get to go to many of these any more as my friends are too distant/i'm too remote), or the winter full of veggie soups i regularly cooked up on a friday nite for the prez flatties. i miss those times there. i miss them & i wanna go back....
Wednesday, August 06, 2014
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Friday, July 04, 2014
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