Sunday, December 17, 2017

Love kind of sucks. (But I'm still obsessed with it.)

It's unbelievably hard to be disappointed in relationships. It's hard to put yourself out there emotionally, to make yourself vulnerable, to risk getting hurt or being rejected or being embarrassed...and then to have the risks you took be disregarded. I can't imagine how much it hurts to be turned down or broken up with. It's easy to downplay the pain of having things just...not work. But it hurts.

It hurts to get your hopes up and keep trying to get to know a person, but then it slowly becomes clear that you're the only one doing the work in the relationship. It hurts to get up the guts to ask someone out, have things go well, in your eyes, and then have them respond with ambivalence when you suggest you meet up again. It's frustrating to always be the one starting the conversations; are they busy or are they sick of you?

I'm sick of seeing pictures of him going out with friends, over-indulging like he's still in college, while I suffer from this wraith-like illness. I've let him know I've hurting. Maybe not in so many words, but he knows I struggle. But even though I put aside everything to be there for him when he needed me, I find him strangely absent all these times I need him. He's rather ghost-like himself in his interactions with me. I guess sometimes I'm a fun distraction if he wants to procrastinate. But he has other friends. And he must have other distractions, because every time he makes me a promise, it never seems to get fulfilled. I always tell myself he's just busy. I always secretly hope he might actually send me that thank you email. Might let me know he appreciated my listening, that he considers me a friend. I just want to know where I stand with him. And I want to know I'm wanted. It's selfish, it's stupid. I guess if he considered me a friend, he would treat me like one.


I don’t know why I keep forgiving you, after all the times you’ve let me down. Hurt me. Disappointed me. All the times you’ve gone out getting drunk and fucking around with your friends while I’m at home crying my eyes out on the phone over you. I know I’m stupid for giving you every second chance I did, but you’re even more stupid for never appreciating me, for letting my go without a fight. I was there for you when you needed me, and where are you now? You’ve known how bad things have been, I’ve never made it a secret. So where are you now? And why didn’t I think you would be my friend, much less my lover?

I'm stupid, but so are you, my beautiful one, so are you. You will always hold a piece of my heart, and you will never take good care of it, unlike the rest of your antiques. 

And I will be the one who hurts.

Not you. Because you never cry after all, just like you once told me. 

You said you almost cried when you talked to her. Sometimes I'm jealous of her. I know I shouldn't be, but I am sometimes. 

Fuck you for the way you've fucked with me.

I know I should hate you, but I can't seem to kill these other feelings. Yet I can't bring myself to call them love either.

I know I probably dodged a bullet in all this - we wouldn't work, would we? But it really kills me sometimes. I loved every minute I was with you, even the awful ones. I feel your absence after all these months. I miss your conversation -- I ache for it. I don't know if you would laugh at all of this and show it to your friends, or if you would get really silent the way and shut the world out you do when you know you've fucked up with someone you know matters. 

I wish I knew how you felt about me, regardless of whether we should or could be together.

I wish you wouldn't shut me out.

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