Yay for me!

I’m proud of myself.

I’ve gone almost a week without writing the jerk-face.

I found out he turned his phone off last week and I had a suicidal meltdown.

Finally ended up calling a friend in Florida and he stayed up with me in my hyserical sobbing panic-attacked self…

It wasn’t pretty, and there was no apology from jerk-face for it.

so fine.

I know he doesn’t care about me. Now I think the point was driven home like a sledgehammer.

And here I thought he’d be a decent human being…

I was wrong.

I think I’m actually being more mature about this because I want to TALK about it.

He’s the jerk-face that’s cut me off like a bad, dirty habit…

And I will not lie.

It hurts. Hurts like someone ripped your heart out and threw it on the ground, watching it shatter while you sat there stunned and silent.

….

God I hate it…

I hate being lonely and lost and confuised about where in the heck I went wrong…

I want to hate him, but hating him makes me a petty person. At least in my eyes.

I tried to explain to a friend that I’m far more Buddhist than I am Christian. I forgive and love and want everyone in the world to be happy and safe and at peace. I wish this every night.

And I wish for him to be happy in his decision, eventhough it tears a hole in my heart and soul.

And I’ll wait.

I’ll wait for the day he can face himself and me, and tell me the truth.

For the day I won’t have to be on medication to control my extreme anxiety and panic-attacks.

For the day I can walk outside and not be reminded of him, of his beautiful face or his wonderful smile and laugh.

And I’m so sorry that I’m not the woman he wants to live his life with… when I had expressly told him several times:

As John Lennon once sang: Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be.

I’ve realized I’ll be alone on my front porch, with a dog or a cat, rocking by myself.

I may have freinds, but I’ll never again have a partner, a best freind I can go through life with walking side-by-side.

Then again, I was never his partner because he didn’t trust me to tell me about his feelings.

*sad sigh* I hurt because of that, even now, almost a month later.

That I wasn’t worth the consideration… that I didn’t have feelings and thoughts and hopes and dreams pinned to jerk-face.

I’ve started calling him Jerk-face simply for my own sanity.

It makes people I work with laugh. They think I’m getting better.

I’m not, really, to be honest.

I’ve just become accustom to donning a mask when I wake in the morning.

A mask that doesn’t come off until I’m in bed… and I wake with tears on my cheeks…

And I cry for what was and what could have been.