Shut Down . . .

. . .

I don’t even know where to start. I’m sitting up in my room, crying, at about five in the morning. I guess you could call this August 1st.

July 31st, I passed by the foot of the stairs going from the first floor to the second. I obviously do that several times a day. Well, I think it was on the 30th, I noticed something on the tape case at the bottom of the stairs. It was a notebook, smaller than the standard, with some kind of Buddah/Vishnu/something on it. I assumed it was Mike’s and I was right. Tonight, when I was alone downstairs, I picked it up and read it. There were only a few entries, but one stuck out in my mind and I copied it down because while he may never read what I have to say, I’ve got my own answers to it.

I can’t stand this. I mean, he basically seems to blame me for everything that happened between us. I can’t even write about all this without crying right now. I mean . . . I just thought . . . I mean, it was me and Mike, you know? I thought we’d be different. I thought we’d be the exceptions. The ones who break up and yet are able to remain really good friends.

He said he’d be there . . . He said if I’d wanted, we could stop dating and he’d go back to just being my best friend . . .

Best friend . . . He doesn’t even know the meaning of the word.

I don’t know whether or not I hate him. I think a part of me wants to . . . Or maybe a part of me does. A part of me pities him. And another huge part of me wants back what he promised I’d have.

But I’m not letting myself fall into that trap again. I can’t do it. I just can’t. I’m not gonna have a huge argument with him one day and the next, pretend like everything’s fine and that he’s actually some kind of friend to me. I can’t do it. It’s too much.

And then he sits there and talks about how I’ve cost him too much. His brother cost me my friends, nearly myself emotionally, Mike cost me a childhood friend and God only knows how much time that I could’ve spent with someone else. He nearly cost me Rob, because it wasn’t my choice for Rob and I to begin dating. Mike was the one, he had to tell me that he was okay with me dating someone new!

And yet, even with all that and a Hell of a lot more, I do take my share of blame for what happened between us. He doesn’t seem interested in taking on any of it. He’s more than happy to lay it all on me.

::Sighs:: I can’t write about this anymore. I know it’s not all clear. It’s not even all clear to me, though a lot more of the smoke is fading away.

I have no desire to write at all. How could my passion have gone away for something that I honestly did think I was good at?

He’s taken that away as well. Rob told me he and Mike were talking at one point and that Mike said I couldn’t sing. Supposedly, he meant professionally, since I “wasn’t professionally trained,” but I think that’s BS. I find though, whereas I used to belt out songs in the car and love every second of doing it, I don’t really sing anymore. Sure, I’ll softly drone along with the radio. Once in awhile, I’ll let go and belt, but never with as much vigor and life as I used to.

Singing used to be a way of escape for me. I’d sing and the world would just disappear. I’d sing Disney songs as a kid, and I’d become Ariel, or Belle, or Jasmine, or whoever. I’d sing A Whole New World while skating in the cul-de-sac in front of my house and something in me would honestly believe that my prince was somewhere out there, listening to me and waiting for the right moment to take me away and make all my dreams come true.

Stupid of me, huh?

I was a fool. Living off dreams and movie romances. Thinking that that could be me. That I’d find a knight in shining armor to carry me off into the sunset.

That’s not to say that Rob’s not someone I care about. I do. I care about him a lot. But . . . With Mike, unlike anybody else I’ve ever met or had a crush on or thought I loved, there was this . . . connection. It was literally like we were connected, mentally, emotionally, sometimes even spiritually. For a good long while, we could know what the other was thinking. Or if not what, then when. I could look at him and tell that he was upset, or holding something back, or if he just wanted to talk, or wanted a hug, or something. And he used to be able to do that with me.

Now, though, he still wants to pretend he knows me when he doesn’t acknowledge any changes I’ve gone through. Then when I tell him he doesn’t know me, he claims I’m saying that as an “avoidance statement.” It’s not avoidance when it’s true! And I don’t know him at all, either. But at least I admit it. He’s nothing like he used to be when we first really started hanging out seven years ago.

. . .

I can’t believe it’s been that long. Even now, I still can’t.

I knew James nine years. And went a little crazy after what happened between us. It took me about two years to let go of the hope that something would rekindle a friendship or anything between us and four years to fully let go of everything and just think of him as someone in my past that I knew.

I’ve known Mike seven. Yeah, I’m a helluva lot stronger emotionally and mentally than I was with James, but does that mean the recovery time will be shorter?

Dear God, I hope so. If not for me, then for Rob. I don’t want to put him through all this. He doesn’t deserve it. He deserves a girlfriend who will focus on him and a future together with him.

I just wish I could give up. But no, I’m “too strong” for that. Besides, it’s not like anyone would have the slightest clue how to put me back together if I did break. It’s not like anyone would notice if I did give up . . .

Okay, that’s not entirely true. A few people might notice.

I once wrote in my journal that the only person who will ever truly know me is the one who knows how to tear down my walls and who I won’t be building new ones in front of as soon as he’s managed that.

I began thinking that maybe Rob was doing that. Now . . . I don’t know.

Every time something new with Mike crops up, I shut down just a little bit more. I wonder if he’ll get out of my life before I shut down completely?