Here We Go Again . . .
Forget his name, Forget his face
forget his kiss and warm embrace
forget his love that once was true
remember now there’s something new
forget those times you spent together
remember now, he’s gone forever
forget those times you werent alone
forget those times that he would call
forget he made your dreams come true
remember now theres something new
forget his gentle teasing way
forget you saw him everyday
forget the thrill when he walked by
forget the times he made you sigh
forget the way he said your name
remember now things arent the same
forget the times he held your hand
forget the sweet things if you can
forget the things he used to do
remember now that he left you
forget he said he’d leave you never
remember now he’s gone forever
Like Hell I’ll accept something like this. I didn’t write the above. Saw it on another diary, (of which the diariest wasn’t the author, either,) and . . . yeah. It relates. But like Hell am I just gonna accept the notion of forgetting about him.
Last night at the store, Drew and I were doing our normal borders-on-arguing-busting-each-other’s-chops kinda thing. He was about to go out for a cigarette when the internet went off. As he walked to the computer, grumbling about how ‘every time he wants to go out for a smoke…’ I jokingly said, "Maybe someone’s giving you a sign."
And he goes all pissed off, saying he doesn’t need/want to hear me saying things like that, and you know what, I can just pack those swords up and send them back because he doesn’t want them anymore (another long story,) and things are over between us.
Now, I admit, yes, I’ve made other comments about him smoking, and yes, a few recently. We were talking last week, and he mentioned something about when he initially started, and all I did was kind of wistfully say, "I wish you would quit." Then, just after Thanksgiving, he was going on a whole God-bend again, and to a degree, I was getting sick of what he was saying, (it was something about sinning,) so when he took out a cigarette and went outside to light up, I said, "Well, why are you doing that, then? Considering the Bible says to treat your body like a temple, isn’t smoking a sin?" He said no, it’s his vice. To which I said something along the lines of it was a sin, too, and "treat your body like a temple, not a smokestack."
Other than that, though, it’s been awhile since I’ve said anything, even the ‘I wish you’d quit.’ But as I said, he went on the whole ‘it’s over’ thing and, rightfully, I got annoyed. I told him not to feed me some crap line like that over something like this. We exchanged a few lines and he told me when he came home he wanted those swords out of his room, including the one I gave him last year for Christmas.
There were a million different things that flew through my head to verbally hurl at him, but I didn’t say anything. None of them would have helped. They just would have made things worse. So, after just staring at him for a few seconds, I turned around and walked to my car. I heard him once again say something about how the swords better be out of his room when he got home, but I didn’t acknowledge hearing him.
Also, just before I left, I’d asked for a quick hug. He refused, saying he doesn’t do that stuff a lot anyway, and it shouldn’t be done at work. He reiterated how he’s ‘told me this before’ and whatnot. Yes, he has. But frankly, I don’t think a quick hug when I’m leaving the store is too much or too unfair a thing to ask for. I mean, seriously. God forbid I get into a car accident or something. Does he really want his last words to me to be, "No, I’m not giving you a hug, I’m not doing that at work"?
Anyway. I left, got gas, and drove up to Melanie’s really quick, continually telling myself not to think about what just happened, because if I did, I’d started crying. I kept telling myself I could cry once I got home. Once I was back at the apartment, alone, I could cry to my heart’s content. I got the homemade sauce she was giving me, said I hoped she felt better, (she said she wasn’t feeling well,) started walking back to my car, and burst into tears. I cried all the way back to the apartment and then for about an hour in the apartment. Then, I wiped my face with a washrag, got my keys, purposely left my cell on the kitchen table, and went to my parents’ to pick up a paper and a box of mine. I didn’t spend much time there and then, ironically enough, I pulled a Drew. My mom’s taken to wanting to give me a hug each time I leave. I don’t want to; I never want to. But most of the time, I deal with it. Last night, when she was saying, "Oh, wait a minute," I just kept walking and kinda growled out that I didn’t want a hug. She asked what was wrong and I just chalked it up to ‘not a good day today’ and that some stuff’s happening with the store that I can’t go into until everything’s settled. (Actually, I was only told I couldn’t tell the drivers, I suppose I could tell them, but honestly, I didn’t want to.)
When I got back into my car after assuring my parents that Drew and I still had jobs, I pulled out of the driveway and started semi-crying again. Like I guessed he would at some point before leaving the store, Drew texted me at 11:03. The conversation is as follows:
Him: (11:03) Did you remove the swords from my room
I refused to answer. I had removed them, along with the binder with the certificates of authenticity, but why should I bother answering back?
Him: (11;12) Oh’ what your not going answer me I have to you time and time again that I will quit when I am ready and also that I am not an affectionate person especialy at work place so deal with it or not
I had started giving some kind of reply about ‘when was the last time I said anything, and how I didn’t think a hug goodbye constituted overly affectionate,’ but then I stopped myself. I did not want to turn this into a text war, and that’s exactly what it would become if I responded like that.
Me: The swords are removed.
Him: Ok good
Him: I will also give you the net book when I get home later
Me: Are you seriously going to pull this whole thi
ng again?
Him: You took the swords and now I will give you the net book to and whatever else you have given me
Me: You requested I take the swords. I did what you requested. The laptop and anything else I gave you has nothing to do with this. Neither did the swords.
Him: I no longer want anything from you if I need get something when I have money I will get it you I are not right for each other
Me: And why aren’t we right for one another? What horrible thing happened that you decide I’m not worth being with?
Him: I am meant to be alone and not with anyone at all and that is that and I will not talk about this later either I have to get up early for next door
Me: You’re not meant to be alone, that’s BS. I love you and I just wish to God you’d stop pushing me away for no reason.
Him: The reason is we are really not right for each other and I am meant to be alone
Me: No, you’re not. You belong with me and I belong with you. Why are you saying we aren’t right for each other?
To which he never answered me. When he got home, he was in his room, setting up the sword display with the original three that came on it. I stood in his doorway, waiting for him to acknowledge me for a few minutes. He finally looked at me and said, "Yes?" I looked at him and said, "Tell me when this is over." He said it already was. I knew he meant us, and I said back, "No, I mean this whole ridiculous thing." It seems to me we might have exchanged a couple other lines before he said that he’d said he didn’t want to talk about this when he got home. I stared at him for second and then said, "Fine." I went and got the cardboard boxes for the two daggers that were on his nightstand and as I walked back out . . . That was when I said the "Tell me when this is over" line. And he said it already was, and I said I meant this whole ridiculous thing.
I went back out to the living room, just doing a bit of straightening and I figured he was gonna come out in a minute and get a cup of coffee like he usually does. I was gonna tell him his usual cup was clean when he did. He didn’t. Instead, I heard him settling into bed. So, I took another minute or two to throw out a couple things and brush my hair, then I went into his room. As I approached his bed, he said, "Yes, what do you want now?" I said I just had one thing to say. "I gave you my heart back over a year ago. I don’t know why you keep trying to break it.." (Or something very close to that.)
I heard him mutter something sarcastic back about ‘oh, yeah, trying to break it….’ and I asked him what he’d thought today did to me. He said something about not being an affectionate person and I should have learned that by now and how he didn’t exactly grow up in a very loving environment. I asked him if he thought I did. I’d be singing, or trying to tell a story, and I’d be shut up for a game show by my mom, for cryin’ out loud. Yes, the things Drew’s described, he had it worse. Much worse. But even so, my house wasn’t exactly full of warm cuddly-ness and affection.
He talked a bit about his brother and how I was probably lucky I hadn’t grown up with a sibling. I said that I didn’t doubt I was better off as an only child than to have a brother like he’s described. I don’t know quite how, but it led to me sitting on the bed, and us talking about the last argument we had where he hit me. He once again said how he may have pushed a woman before, (his ex,) but he’s never hauled off and punched one.
I think he’s still afraid he’ll do it again. And I know he still feels guilty as Hell about doing it in the first place. Not to mention that he’s nowhere near forgiving himself. He kept saying how he’s meant to be alone. And I remember, before I sat down on the bed, I’d said something about why was he letting things in the past control his future. He asked what future? Another divorce a few years down the line? I said no, that if I married him, it was forever. That we’d both agreed on that.
He’s afraid, plain and simple. I think part of it is that we had a few deeper conversations in the past week. He admitted some things to me, I gave a few of my opinions, and I think, in thinking back on it, those conversations scared him. I think when he realizes he’s started to confide in someone, he has to push them away as soon as possible. And that’s what he’s doing to me. He gets scared, wants to back away, and tries breaking off ties, telling himself he’s better off alone than to risk being hurt over and over.
I wish I could make him see that the one he’s hurting here is me. I don’t doubt that he’s hurting; but moreso, I want him to realize that his actions and these ever-fluctuating decisions of his are affecting people outside of himself. But of course, convincing him of that is a freakin’ difficult thing, because he doesn’t truly believe anyone cares about him.
::Sighs:: I’m working with myself of several years ago. But whereas everyone I knew then was either waiting in the wings for me to wake up, or eventually just walked away, or didn’t have the guts to deal with me in the first place, I’m simply staying. I’m not going anywhere.
God give me strength. Cuz when I can think about it logically, I’m fine. But since emotions do come into play because of how I feel about him, I just . . . feel empty. If I lost him . . .
I don’t doubt that I’d live. I wouldn’t go suicidal or something stupid like that. But if I lost him, I’d exist. That’d be it. There would always be a huge hole in my life, in my heart, that no one would ever fill properly, no one ever could fill properly, because now I know what it feels like to not be alone. And if he left, if things between us truly were definitely, undeniably over . . .
Cuz I don’t feel they are. In fact, I know they’re not. In a few days, maybe a week or so, I’ll come back here and write an entry on how we made up and what happened and all that. I just have to wait for it to happen.
::Sighs:: Here’s hoping it happens soon . . . 