Welcome Back to the Shit Show

At this point, it’s my fault. I’ve crossed the point where you can no longer make excuses for staying with someone because you know all too well how damaged they are and that they will ruin you somehow, too. So here I am– back to the can’t eat, can’t sleep, stuck in my own mind, drowning in my own thoughts kinda place and I’m not even angry at him for driving me here because it’s my own damn fault. All the warning signs were there, including the fact that he told me in plain English he isn’t good with relationships or (“ship” as I liked to call ours) but how does that old, stupid saying go? You can’t help who you fall for?

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though…I was, by no means, in love with this kid. I cared about him but I am inherently a caring person being of the female nature, so that was unavoidable. I tried as much as I could to keep a safe distance so I wouldn’t care more than he did. No let me rephrase that, so I wouldn’t care too much more than he did. Isn’t that always how it goes? Even when they want you they don’t want you enough. Ya know?

But anyway, the point of this is that I’m in the middle of my sulking stage and I need to play this out fully in order to move on to the next stage of moving on. But the thing about this one was that despite how fragile I knew this ship was, and perhaps the failures of others who have tried to pursue this venture with him in the past, I felt like none of that mattered because we were kind of happy together. He didn’t mind that I was a nerdy weird freak and I didn’t mind that he was a freak in his own right, too. This one though, this particular disappointment, has come as kind of a hard blow. It’s hard, no matter what, to feel like someone doesn’t find you worthy or care about you. And I’m probably being slightly dramatic because I don’t think he just didn’t care, but I think he didn’t want to care as much as I wanted him to and no matter what I did or who I was, maybe he wasn’t even capable of being who I wanted him to be.

No, not maybe. Definitely. He told me he wasn’t that guy and that he couldn’t be. He told me and I knew it but still went for it. There really is no one to blame but myself. He didn’t want the responsibility of someone else’s happiness depending on him. I get that. It’s a heavy load. He told me and I knew it. I knew it but I ignored it because when we were together, he actually was that guy. Maybe unintentionally. Maybe by accident. But he definitely was that guy in person when we were together. It’s when we would leave each other that I could feel not just physical distance growing. And I guess that’s why I stayed longer than I knew I should; because I’d see glimpses of how great he was and how happy that made me feel. Maybe that’s why this one hurts more than the others. 2012 has not been kind to my dating life, but all the other disappointments only seem like they were just practice for this– the 2012 Grand Finale of Failures.

There’s this part of me that wants to believe after the new year, my bad luck will disintegrate and I can try again with someone it didn’t work with in the past– or him– and it will actually work. Like it’s actually the year bringing me bad luck and not just my own dumb decisions. Then there’s this whole other part of me that wants to fall of the face of his earth. Either to grant him his wish of a life without me or to prove to him what a mistake he made. We always want that, though. We always think guys will come to their senses after they’ve “lost” us. Haha…oh the desperation. Some of them do, I’ll give us that benefit of the doubt.

What I find the strangest about this is it’s always this little feeling I have suppressed somewhere that never goes away. When I start to get used to the happiness and the comfort and familiarity of a person, most of all the comfort, there is that nagging feeling I have that at some point, whatever detector guys have that can sense I feel that way is gonna go off and he will drag me back to reality where I don’t belong to him and there is no security or stability. I’d call myself crazy if I couldn’t prove myself right, but I can and I have and I will again, I’m certain.

And it’s not the title I’m worried about. I don’t care what kind of “ship” it is, it’s not the determination of that that I’m worried about. It’s the loss of a person. It’s the loss of a little bit of happiness I found with someone. It’s the loss of some hope I held on to. Surely we all find it again once it’s lost, but not without it taking some kind of affect on us. And obviously it’s too soon now to feel alright since I’m still licking open wounds. Evidently the “ship” we were in was a sinking one.

I’m hopeless, though. You know I won’t tell anyone that we’re no longer speaking for several reasons, but one of them being the off chance we might see each other again. I don’t want everyone hating him for reasons I can’t bring myself to hate him for. Maybe it’s because I understand him more than the other people. Or maybe things haven’t fully set in and as soon as they do, I will feel myself hating him, too. For the denial and rejection. For sucking the hope out of me. For being the cherry on top of the most ill-fated year of my love life. Or for telling me the truth about who he is and giving me no choice but to believe it. But like I said, at this point, it’s my fault.

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