Clarity.

Posted 2 years, 7 months ago at 12:08 am. 0 comments

I feel like I’ve made a massive mistake. I had the perfect opportunity to be completely honest about how I felt and I fucked it all up. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t want to do this, and that I’d been trying to talk myself out of it. That I can’t bear the thought of him being with someone else, and that I didn’t get upset around him because it makes me feel even more vulnerable. That I was only acting like a grown-up and not crying my eyes out because I still don’t feel like I know where he stands. That I still felt like I was putting myself out there for no reason, except for offering myself up to be steamrolled. I didn’t do too badly considering, but god damn, was I a mess afterwards. I managed to contain myself while he was here, but pretty much the minute he was out the door I wandered down the hallway to Andrew’s room, attempted to tell him what happened, found that when I opened my mouth to talk tears just came out of nowhere and I just leaned against the wall and cried for a while. We went out into the lounge, I slumped down on my familiar brown beanbag and did more crying. Andrew did a good job of cheering me up though, so kudos to him.

For the rest of the day, I had a horrible, empty gap in my stomach. I felt kind of hollow. I suppose it’s kind of troubling because I remember how this started in the first place. Although I haven’t really divulged this to anyone before, my motivation to spend time with, well, anyone else with a penis, was because of FatMan. I wanted more than anything to get him out of my head. I have an announcement to make: I did a really, really fucking good job. Meanwhile, I care more about him than I’ve ever cared about anyone before, and it hurts. It hurts more now because I feel like I’ve fucked everything up and I can’t fix it. Well, fix it to how it was, anyway, which isn’t really fixed in any case. Even drinking didn’t help. At. All. And today? All I wanted to do was pick up the phone and tell him I love him and that I wish I could’ve been happy with things the way they were. Although, it’s hard to be happy when you feel like the unknown girl on the side.

So, here I am, sniffling like a little girl again because I’ve fucked it all up. Fortunately for me, I’m surrounded by a plethora of hideously awesome Hilary Duff movies (the best pick-me-up) and I’m resisting the temptation to gorge myself stupid on ice cream.

OH WHY THANKYOU HILARY DUFF MOVIE (now edging themselves onto the not-best-pick-me-up list) FOR POINTING OUT THE FOLLOWING:
“he could be anywhere in the world, but he chooses to be with her because life is better with her by his side”

At this point I should probably be convincing myself that it’d be best to cut my losses and move on. Unfortunately, it appears that I’m quite fond of my losses. I -love- my losses. I guess it’s even more unfortunate that my losses don’t really feel the same.