My friends are getting sick of listening to me so I’m blogging this shit. I’ve been dumped. Again. The ironic thing is that I thought my problem this time around was how to deal with a relationship that was going to last a really long time.
Maybe it was bad timing, maybe we’re not meant to be together, maybe he’s gay, maybe some combination of all or none.
I don’t know why this one is different but it is. I’m being honest with myself for the first time in…I guess ever. The ugly truth is that I don’t like myself very much and I thought a relationship would give me confidence. I want to shrink into nothing in a corner and have no one look at me. When he was around, that was possible. I could hide in him. He was like an invisibility cloak that only worked when we touched.
That’s the worst of the truth, the somewhat melodramatic, I-hate-myself truth. The real truth is that no one is good at relationships, but it seems you give it a go with someone and stumble your way along together. My friend pinned this the other day:
- Whoever comes are the right people.
- Whatever happens is the only thing that could have.
- Whenever it starts is the right time.
- When it’s over, it’s over.
We’re “on a break.” He hasn’t even started thinking about what he wants – me, anyone, a relationship, nothing. Meanwhile, it’s all I can think about. It’s all I want to talk about, it’s all I want anyone to know is going on with me.
Even if he did want to get back together, I’m not sure I want to. And even if I don’t want to, it hurts like hell to think he doesn’t want to – or never did in the first place and was just faking it all along. Or whatever combination of hurt I can come up with. It’s just an open wound that is going to take time to heal, but I hate waiting. It’s been maybe a week and a half but it feels like months of agony and heartbreak and crying and sleeplessness and no appetite and crying and analyzing and not being able to work and crying and trying to look good in case I run into him and crying and being scared to run into him but at the same time wanting to see him just to see how I feel when I do see him. And crying.
I realized the other day that it’s like I recreate my dad dying with every relationship end. I never really dealt with that the first time around so maybe I’m trying to get myself to live it and finally deal with that shit. This fucking sucks.