I hate doing “read more” posts because it makes me feel self-righteous…like, CLICK ME BECAUSE I HAVE SECRETS AND IT IS NECESSARY FOR OTHERS TO BE CURIOUS AND READ ABOUT MY TRIVIAL PROBLEMS.
and I seem to be doing it more and more these days…
shiet. I’m totally self-absorbed. Ugh.
But, to the point of this…
I hate admitting this, and it’s totally apparent to those close to me, but I keep getting distracted all the time. I’m not focusing on things that should be my priority. I keep imagining that I’ll accomplish all these wonderful things and make you see how happy and successful I am. But I need to do all of those things for me, not for the stupid purpose of making you jealous or sad or regret hurting me over and over again.
So you hurt me, so you ruined things and although I tried picking up the pieces and making things okay again, you didn’t want any part of it.
So what? I shouldn’t still be affected by this and, god forbid, let it mess up my grades and ultimately, my happiness.
You don’t want to be my boyfriend.
And I got over that shit after a while.
But the thing that I couldn’t, and can’t for some reason, get over is that
you don’t want to be my friend.
I feel like a crazy person when I try to explain it to others. ”no, he was my friend though.”
people don’t get it. and I feel so full of shit and sappy as fuck when I say things like this, but it’s so true.
“my best friend. you know me. you know how much friends mean to me.”
“but he wasn’t even your boyfriend.”
SO WHAT, GODDAMN, WHO CARES IF HE WASN’T MY BOYFRIEND, YOU DON’T HAVE TO RUB IT IN OH MY GOD, I KNOW I AM UNWANTED IN THE ROMANCE DEPARTMENT OF MY LIFE, SHIT. BUT FRIENDS ARE FRIENDS AND THEY MATTER, OKAY?
…You can’t even talk to me or send me a quick text. It’s like I don’t exist. It’s like we weren’t even anything before.
And goddamnit, I trusted you so much. Not just with my heart and feelings and all that lovely shit that messes with our heads. But with things I wouldn’t tell other people. I trusted you with those late nights, tv show reruns, food cravings, tumblr rants, gossip, past and current crushes, worries about my future, my family, myself.
Some of those things seem mediocre. unimportant. dull.
But they were important to me and I felt the most comfortable with you in a way I never once thought I could feel with any other person of the opposite sex.
I’m not playing victim. I’m not saying “oh, well damn, this always happens to me. woe woe woe. huhuhu, I can’t do things on my own and I am and always will be incapable at maintaining a relationship with a male counterpart.” But what I am saying is that, I don’t trust people easily. But I let a select few in somehow and allow them to carve a niche into my soul, heart, mind, what have you. And that’s precisely what I allowed you to do. I was aware and coherent, and no alarm ever once sounded in my head telling me to stop, slow down, don’t do this with him, because he is a boy and he will hurt you.
I say this over and over again, and it still never dulls the pain.
You were the one person I never expected to hurt me in such a way that I could never forgive. And yet, you did it, not without remorse, but seemingly so.
And months ago, my friends would ask me, “would you take him back? what if he came back? what if he was sorry?”
And I would reply that I didn’t know—that it hurt too much to be without him, as a friend or more, it didn’t matter.
But now, I can’t even say. I can’t fathom. I can honestly say, I don’t think he will come back, as a friend or otherwise.
He has too much pride, too much fear, too much everything. Too much of everything, and not enough of nothing.
Does that make any sense?
It’s as if he’s so full of everything that he isn’t empty enough to take a step back and ask for forgiveness. He has too much and he’s satisfied with what he has. Even if what he has doesn’t include me…or all of us in general.
I tried, constantly, to think, “wait, no, he is stressed. he has things to do. he’s going through things he won’t tell us, and I should be more sensitive, understanding, kind, compassionate.” And I don’t like thinking badly of others that are or were near and dear to me. But I don’t think he has it in him to do the same for us. I laid my cards on the table, and nothing happened. I’m not begging for him to love me, oh god no. That would be ridiculous, and that’s something I don’t want at all. But the neglect, the oversight, the painfully awkward encounters and apparent apathy on his part?
I just can’t take anymore of it.