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    Fictitious Love
    Fictitious Love
    Fictitious Love
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    Fictitious Love

    By Viola Jones

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Expressed in journal form, my book is about my life and issues related to my first experience with love and how that first wrong interpretation affected me over the years. Initial entries written in 1986 and continuing until this year, concluding with my reaquaintence with true love.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateDec 22, 2010
    ISBN9781452020600
    Fictitious Love
    Author

    Viola Jones

    I am a single mother of five children ages 24, 18, 16, and 11, living in Saint Louis Missouri. Professionally, I care for clients with MR/DD assisting them with maintaining quality of life. Between the two, I absorb my childhood dreams of painting the world beautiful. Whenever the opportunity arises, I draw, paint and do crafty things that bring peace in my life.

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      Book preview

      Fictitious Love - Viola Jones

      Contents

      INTRODUCTION

      PATHWAY TO FICTITIOUS LOVE

      APRIL

      JUNE

      JULY

      AUGUST

      SEPTEMBER

      OCTOBER

      1988 JUNE

      WIFEY

      FEMALE SWAG

      JDUBB

      TUG OF WAR

      INTRODUCTION

      Dr. Thomas Lipsitz: In Fictitious Love, Six recants a poignant story in journal form that leads her from a place of romantic idealism to the stark reality of love gone awry. She painstakingly holds on to a man whose insecurities clearly blind him from knowing the depths and intensity of the love which is sent his way. Six struggles mightily with unrequited love for Roman despite knowing that beneath his charming, disarming smile and demeanor was a flaming narcissist. He appears to use women for the benefit of his own hedonistic pleasures for sex and financial gain. Rather than choose love and family, he clearly opts for material pleasures and ignores the path of pain he causes for Six and Angel. In Fictitious Love, we find a bright, sensitive, initially naive African- American woman who evolves from an emotionally open and vulnerable young woman to a more hardened, scarred maturing person who had held on too long to a dream of a relationship that was never to be. The damage caused by clinging to Roman, leaves Six numb to the possibility of deep love with another man. This story, told over a few decades, is a contemporary journaling of Six’s most secretive, personal thoughts and as she matures she comes to terms with life’s most difficult lessons. We can open our young hearts to love in somewhat reckless ways, suffer deep emotional pain that persists on and off for months or years, learn to protect ourselves by shutting our romantic feelings down, and then after learning that life is too short to mourn forever, endeavor to open our heart again to another, albeit not ever to the same degree as with our first unfulfilled love. My hope is that from her pain and suffering, Six can eventually realize that the sensitivity and compassion she brought to her relationship with Roman is still alive and new; deeper love can be achieved with someone else who can reciprocate and truly appreciate the wonderfulness of this special Diva. Her tale is one that so many women can relate with and thus this is an important read for those who have been hurt like this or those who can vicariously learn not to pursue a charming con-man like Roman.

      PATHWAY TO FICTITIOUS LOVE

      Being a silent child with much to say and no one to really listen, writing became my outlet. Anywhere my mind took me I was willing to go there on paper. I wish I were keeping a journal when our times together were sweet, when our love was real but the memories are forever present. By the time I’d started writing, he had my mind gone. Our entire relationship was spiraling out of control. I continued to fall deeper into love, deeper into depression. I was in high school when I noticed him. After I so boldly captured his attention, I loved him fast and strong and he loved me back. We would steal time while his girlfriend was working. He’d come see me after school with the widest Cheshire grin. I’d smile while he did handstands until his face was red, I was impressed. I would go as far as he took me and was never afraid. I would have followed him anywhere. We would take long rides to absolutely nowhere, just riding, loving for the moment, forgetting about that nonentity in his life. I loved him and he loved us both. I was forcing him to choose but I understood his plight. She was older and could offer him things that would take me years to acquire. I came only with love and eventually lost him to her and then to every women with means. He was my first love, second to none. The son of an African American father and a Caucasian mother, his skin was the most perfect tan you can imagine. He stood about five eleven. His face perfectly framed with dark brows and brown eyes in which I could see the depths of eternity and peace. His lashes were long making it hard to determine if his eyes were opened or closed. Usually clean shaven, he sometimes donned a goatee for me, my kryptonite. That made him even more appealing. His nose was prominent and with the sweetest lips perfectly placed and his smile penetrated my being. He was young and selfish, having no idea how to receive what I was so willingly trying to give him. I remember him telling his friends I was easy. What he failed to realize was that I chose him. I watched him for months. In the neighborhood or wherever I had the chance to look at him, doing chores or whatever, I did. I eventually sent the neighborhood little boys to let him know who I was and that I wanted him. I was trying to make this as easy as possible and I knew I loved him from the very start. My friends all told me he was a bad boy that had gotten in trouble with the law and I shouldn’t dare talk to him. Nothing they said mattered; I just knew I had to be near him. The cheating. The love, despite the deception and lies. The pregnancy and the reality of it all was more than he was willing to bear. Our son, Angel was almost two when Roman left our lives for good. After some time, my journal entries no longer included him. He became my past tense. I kept my love for him tucked away in a safe place. I will admit to numerous sex episodes with willing young men that could gain little more than entry. It didn’t take long for me to realize that sex had absolutely nothing to do with love. Long after he had left my life, I caught myself. I thanked God for giving me strength; I embraced life and continued on without him. It would be two and a half years before I was brave enough to test the waters. Love was never the same again. On the following pages, I share my lessons in love with you. In my adult life, one thing I know for sure is that love has got to be the sweetest thing!!!!

      1986 SEPTEMBER

      With Roman things are great. When I’m with him, I get a warm feeling inside and I want to go as far as I possibly can. Is it love or is it lust? ~~~~

      Roman doesn’t love me, as a matter of fact; I don’t think he gives a shit about Angel or me. He always says what he’s going to do and he never does. Trying to see him is always so hard, most times it’s impossible. Whenever he needs me I’m always there but if I only want to see him, he acts like it’s such an obstacle for him to bring his ass over. I am so fed up with the way he treats me. I’ve got nothing but good feelings for him but at the rate things are going, he’s going to make me hate him. Maybe that is his intention but that is the last thing I want. We talk on the phone, plan on seeing each other and I sit and wait. It must be hard being the man in the middle with a woman pulling you from either side.

      I would love to say Fuck You Roman Pierce but it’s so hard for those words to come out. I guess because it’s not what I really want. I just wish he wouldn’t treat me this way. I wanted him to save me. I’m barely keeping my head afloat but I have to grow up and save my own dumb ass. If I’m waiting on him, I’m sure to drown. If he wasn’t going to come, why couldn’t he tell me something, that’s all I ask? But I guess he doesn’t have to tell me this situation we’re in is really fucked up and sometimes he can’t call. I’m in such denial. Maybe if I acted like I was interested in someone else he’d desire me. He knows I’m stuck on him. Maybe I need someone who will pay attention to me. I know he’s going around poking any and everything. I’m going to try my damndest to become interested in other guys. Maybe when he grows up, he’ll appreciate me. Until then, I can’t put up with this emptiness. I’d give him anything and he just shits on me. ~~~~~~~ I’ve been crying a lot. Everybody keeps reminding me how wrong he is for me. You know what? He is not making me think any differently. I really need to be loved. So much of my childhood is repressed; I have no memory of receiving it when I was a kid. My dad died when I was five. After his death my mother went downhill. I longed for her love and on good days I could see it. It must have been hard trying to raise all of us. Both of our hearts were broken by mothers that were no longer here. My mother died when I was eleven as I lay sleeping next to her and his had run away when he was eight, for reasons I’m not completely certain of. Crushed is what we were. Despite the odds, we came together, both too fragile and too young to endure the end result. Too afraid that at some point we’d no longer love one another. I don’t know, I’m just reaching. I’d give anything for him to fall so deeply in love with me, things would be wonderful; I’d make them. If there were something he didn’t like about me, I’d make the sacrifices for him. If

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