Summary

The text is a reflective and emotional narrative exploring the complexities of a tumultuous relationship, the pain of betrayal, and the struggle to maintain personal identity amidst love's trials and tribulations.

Abstract

"By A Thread: Part Two" is a poignant piece by Nova Binx that delves into the raw emotions associated with a strained and chaotic relationship. The author expresses deep frustration and hurt, feeling reduced to a jester in their partner's life, and grapples with the loss of self-worth. The narrative reveals the difficulty of restarting love after repeated conflicts and the presence of a third party, referred to as "she," who haunts the relationship. The author describes the intense rivalry and incompatibility, despite moments of synchronicity, and the pain of seeing their partner entangled with another. The text conveys a journey of self-discovery, the realization of the partner's flaws, and the acknowledgment of the other woman's manipulative nature. It touches on the struggle to hold onto hope and trust while being haunted by past traumas, ultimately questioning the possibility of drawing a line in the sand to protect oneself from further heartache.

Opinions

The author harbors resentment towards their partner for the emotional turmoil caused and for allowing another woman to interfere with their relationship.
There is a sense of betrayal and anger directed at the other woman, who is seen as a manipulative and destructive force in the author's life.
The author reflects on the concept of unconditional love and the spiritual battle within oneself to fight for what is right, even if it means letting go.
The text suggests that the author feels unheard and unappreciated, with their efforts to build a foundation in the relationship being undermined by external influences.
Despite the pain, there is an underlying hope for personal growth and the possibility of a love that is guided by a personally tailored understanding of relationships.
The author acknowledges the universal challenge of loving without the fear of losing, and the desire for a love that can withstand the trials and tribulations of life.

By A Thread: Part Two

Mad at you for everything…

Even when you made me feel like a jester in your fucked up funhouse court- When my self-worth was nowhere to be found, when I glanced at mirrors in passing only to see an otherworldly dimensional figure-

I realized…

I lost who I worked so hard to become…

It was easy to place all of the blame and baggage at the base of your spine: it was easy because all I wanted was for you to feel your chaos. To feel your doing that can’t be undone, weighing down my heart and I carry that with me every day; a personal cross.

It’s hard to give love a restart. We’ve been compressing, compressing, compressing, compressing, compressing on this entire relationship. And after two breathes we come up for air, for a sliver of love. And the universe places another web for us to wiggle and untangle out of in time.

It was easy to believe you once, you earned some of me, not all. And you lost some of me, but not all. Yet, we stand in opposite directions on the same pole.

We clash like bulls, fiercely and wildly by nature so in sync. Even on the days, the monsters in my ears whispered that we’re too different to be meant to be when they said that she would always be there and be first. I felt that. When my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach, when I saw the little glints in your eyes- her name and her unbecoming became bullets. Funny how I hadn’t even finished laying the foundation around us… God how I hated you for your folly and your perfectly imperfect innate humanly flaws. How I hated her, for haunting your home! Replanting herself in your mind and tightening her roots around your life, like rough weed patches, fighting and dying to be in places it doesn’t belong.

She, the foe who I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck, to destroy all that she snatched away.

She, the woman with the mentality, the attitude of a child, but a woman nonetheless, who uses cunningness for deception, who plots accordingly because she feasts on the attention of all those who will fall into her den.

She, who used you, abused you, and still never wants to lose you because she knows exactly how to poison you, how to seep into your skin, and how to revive you when you’re at the moment when… you’re just… about.. to… break…

She, the evil bitch- we all know the one- in every fairytale and in every reality. They say that we all are the bad guy in someone else’s story, but I can guarantee you that I sensed her hunger for dramatics and attention from the moment I met her.

Rose-colored glasses do nothing but damage.

And for you, it was as if for her, rose-colored were the shade of your own eyes.

A friend doesn’t lure you to their bed then jump on a high horse ready to drag you behind them with your feet bound. You sloshed through the bed for her willingly. You bowed to her like a love-sick puppy unaware that you are some wonderful sort of underdog in the making.

A friend doesn’t abuse you to no end, comes up to you with a hidden agenda, and demands that you fulfill their every wish and command. A friend doesn’t make you feel guilty for living your own life or for loving someone. A friend doesn’t destroy you for the fun of it.

And in my eyes, she will forever remain the serpent she is. Now, it is your choice to eventually learn the messages the universe wants you to receive. That is your own path.

But I can’t forever stand back and watch turmoil fall upon you- for a fuku to fall upon our very doorstep.

We all fall in love with one soul that we can’t ever even explain why we are connected to or attracted to and sometimes loving includes fighting not for the person, but for what is right in our spirit. The little things like this, they often leave out in the imaginary manual for love and relationships. If only we could all get our own personally tailored love bibles handwritten exclusively for us to guide us.

But how many people share my disposition- hanging by a thread, swinging into that familiar terrifying abyss of trust, clouded by phantoms of our pasts, our traumas, our abuses, our nightmares, our monsters- neatly tucked away in our closets?

How many are frightened of loving and losing for the final time? Can a line ever be drawn in the sand?

Or are people like me supposed to keep dangling on with flickering hope in our hearts?

Dying candles in evanescence… golden threads losing glimmer not even knowing we could shine…

Written By Nova Binx

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