356 days in Venice

Today is a less good day. I don't want to admit it but it is. The high from yesterday afternoon's visit of the film crew has faded, the while event seems like a distant memory of another lifetime. Today I am back in reality, the full, black reality that is my current situation. I need to get out, it is now beyond the writings on the wall, there is an speaker broadcasting loudly 'get out! get out!' overhead.

I am in a love-less relationship. All love and affectiom has been drained because of his loser friends. He does not love me anymore because he cannot see his precious loser friends. The thing is, if he goes out with them, the outcome is the same- except that the resentment will come from my part, much stronger, it will force me to accept that I do not love him, or even like him all that much - I do not like smoking, drunk, weed-smoking, uneducated, swearing thugs. I might have wanted that to satify my 'bad boy' phase, but that phase is well gone. I am just fooling myself sticking around, in denial day in and day out.

I feel the heaviness in my step more than usual today, and it is not surprising. My heart feel like it is weighted down with lead.

It is not that I can not turn things around, if I really wanted to, I don't think that it is worth it. It is like twisting myself into a shape which is so far from what I am, one I don't like and am not happy being. Forcing myself to adapt to an environment which I despise and have absolutley no particular reason to be in. Especially when I have some place else to go.

Ok so i understand the Italian men's obsession with football, after all, he is not my first Italian boyfriend - but this is just over the line. I was walking out to the living room to get a glass of water and was yelled at 'vai via! vai via!vaaai via! it's the last goal' (go away! go away! go awayyyy!) Who does he take me for? Who does he think he is? Not sure how my walking into the living room would affect the outcome of the last goal?! Do I really have the ability to make his team loose the last goal by walking into the living room? Boy, I would be a well-demanded commodity.

It is behavior like this, that makes me look foward to leaving. What i'd give to be with a real gentleman, I have been putting up with the behavior of a thug for too long. I can still remember how it made my heart melt the last time a man stood up as I excused myself to the ladies. Also he is Italian, but he has worked abroad and I supposed has learnt how to be a gentleman. I used to take these things for granted, and like everything else, you only realise how much something matters to you when you no longer have it.

The classic example - one day it was raining cats and dogs, a real torrential rain storm. I had lent my umbrella to my boyfriend to go get the car. He drove the car to the entrance where I was waiting, but in order to get into the car, I would have to get wet as the car could not come right up to the door. I was standing there waiting for him to get out of the car with my umbrella, to come and walk me to the car. Instead he waved and signaled me to walk to the car. I pointed to the sky and waved my hand, signally him to come and get me. This went on for awhile, until he realised I would not budge; then he got out of the car with an annoyed look, as if to say I am spoiled and crazy. He walked me to the car eventually but was obviously not pleased to do it.

I could only smile and shake my head, it was not his fault, I am sure he has never seen anyone do something like that, I am sure all his friends would have done the same. It is just that i am used to another way of behavior, another way of being treated.

It is official, I have been here for one year. And it is increasingly obvious that it is time to admit defeat, and go. I would never have been able to live the life I dream of here, not even the life where I'd find bearable. I have cried too many tears, felt desperation too often, scream in my head far too loud and the bottle bursted too many times. My sanity is somewhat still intact, though i lament what has become of me. I was once a very different girl, now I am just a fraction of what I used to be on a good day. This life has reduced me to a creation so pathetic I am ashamed even to call my friends or family. It was afterall my 'throw caution to the wind', 'go with my heart' decision. Now I know I will most probably never throw caution to the wind ever again in my life. Spontaneity has ceased to exist and forever condemned.

I need to go (back?) to a place where my values would be respected and understood, I am tired of defending them- afterall they shouldn't need defending! I am also tired of being called a 'freak', of being regarded upon as one, I wonder where has my strength gone to raise up and say 'wake up you frogs at the bottom of the well, go and see for yourselves the world outside of this sodded well'. Yet I recoil, my lone voice fading into the crowd's, I hear my voice agreeing just to survive the attack and to have a moment to comfort myself and hope.

i must get my acts together, i must be the superhero now to get myself out of this furnace - no one else can. It will not be easy, but 5 years from now I'd look back and realise how insignificant yet necessary it has been to get myself out of this situation.

My days in Venice are numbered, and the thought of this does not pain me now as it once did. I have had enough of its beauty, its sadness, its wickedness. I have experienced enough. It's time to get back on the track that will lead me somewhere.

Next sunday I would like to go to the Anglican Church in Venice, to pray for strength, the strength to rescue myself out of here and back in a more welcoming place. I will need the strenght and courage to pull the plaster and bear the pain.