What Am I Doing?

I think it’s just paranoia.  I hope it’s just paranoia.  Dear God in Heaven, I’m praying it’s just paranoia inspired by fear, worry, and insecurity.

This week . . . this past week has just been so weird.  Everything with Drew, Charlie hitting on me, me wondering the things that started hitting me either last night or early this morning as I came out of my sleep-induced stupor . . .

I don’t want to write it.  Thinking it, even speaking it aloud when no one else is there to hear it . . .  Those times, it’s not real.  There’s nothing tangible about it so if I pretend hard enough, maybe I can pretend away the fact that I’m worrying about it.  I can make like it’s not there and just hide my head in the sand.

Heh.  Except I don’t do that anymore.

But my God, will it hurt if I get the answer I’m afraid of.  And then, if I do, there are so many things I have to consider.  So many decisions I have to make of what to do.

I’m sitting here at work, eyes blurring with tears as I type.  Sometimes I honestly wonder how I’m able to go on when so many times over, I’ve given someone a piece of my heart and they’ve turned their back on it, treating it like crap in the process.  I wonder if everything I’ve thought about him was a lie.  Maybe other people were right.  Maybe he’s not worth it.  Maybe he is using me, taking what he wants and then leaving me flat, taking advantage of me because in spite of everything I’ve been through, in so many ways, I’m still so damned innocent.

But then I think of the expression on his face when he got me those roses.  I think of how he’s talked to me about nightmares of his, or things that have happened in his past, or stories about his family members.  I don’t want to believe he was using me.  I don’t want to believe I mean nothing to him.  I don’t want to think about my life without him in it . . .

God . . .  I gotta finish this later.  I can’t lose it at work like this . . .