falling down again

Last night I talked to Quinn.  For hours.  Via webcam.  It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since March.  It’s the longest we’ve talked in months, since Valentine’s day weekend probably.  It was hard.  It was awkward at times and at other times it was just like old times and the conversation flowed so well.  

I admitted to him that I still have feelings for him, that they’re at the ’embers of unrequited love’ and I’ve been putting off being friends until the feelings died down to the ‘ashes of old love’.  He said he was sorry.  He asked why I was trying then if I didn’t feel ready.  I told him I’m on a forgiveness kick.  Which is true.  I’m trying to forgive the people who’ve hurt me in the recent past.  I can’t hold on to that kind of negativity; it’s just not healthy.

I didn’t expect the conversation to last. I expected it would be awkward and weird and lots of non-talking where neither would know what to say.  I expected that he’d bail pretty quickly like he has done so often lately when we talk. 

I didn’t expect it to hurt so much either.

I still love him.

I’m so mad at myself!

Here I am more than 6 months later and I’m crying myself to sleep again, my heart just as broken as it was 6 months ago.

I miss him.  I miss falling asleep curled up alongside him, his arm draped over me.  

He’s the only guy I’ve ever actually slept beside.  Every other guy I’ve been with I spent the night lying awake next to them.  True there were nights even with him when I’d wake up every hour, on the hour, having to toss and turn and get comfortable again.  There were nights I ended up on the floor or on the couch just because I needed the space (not physically, mentally).  But so often when I’d wake up in the night he’d roll over and find me and comfort me even asleep or half-asleep.  Sometimes he’d rouse enough and we’d have sex and then fall asleep again.

I still don’t sleep on the other side of my mattress.  It’s like it’s still ‘his side’ of the bed.  He admitted he still doesn’t sleep on ‘my side’ of the bed either.

I don’t want to miss him so much still.

It feels like my heart is breaking all over again.

This is why I’ve been so afraid all the time, so afraid to get involved with someone new, to even try with someone new.

I shouldn’t still be this broken inside, be this…empty inside because he’s not here.

What if I really did have to let go of my soulmate?  Is that why it still hurts this badly, just as badly as it did that first day, that first week?

It feels like my chest is caving in around a hole where my heart is supposed to be beating.

How can I ask anyone to put up with being second place?  How can I try getting involved in a relationship knowing that it’s like taking second best because I can’t have what I really want?  That’s not fair to either of us.  To get involved with someone when my heart so obviously is still hung up on Quinn?  It’s cruel.

The world is cruel.

I’m really tired of being broken inside and having to go on every day like I’m not.  Having to paint a smile on until it’s all I know, until even I start believing that I’m okay again.  Being happy and positive because it makes my life easier to deal with, it makes good things happen in my life.  It’s hard to be happy all the time when there’s still a hole inside of me.

Talking to Quinn just pulled the band-aids off of wounds that have never really stopped bleeding.  Band-aids that were hiding what I really feel like most of the time but that I’m tired of being.  I got tired of being depressed, tired of being the broken one, the one that people looked at in pity or annoyance.  Pity because I was so obviously broken.  Annoyance because I didn’t bounce back like they all thought I should have.  So I put the band-aids on and hid that I was still so hurt.

Even here, in my diary, the place where I should have felt free to keep being as heartbroken as I felt inside.  Even here I saw the pattern, saw the sorrow and the pain and I hated myself for being that girl.  I felt bad for writing all that depressing crap and having people read it, even my friends list.  You all deserve to see happy-ish stuff.  You shouldn’t have to put up with the level of pain that I’m in every day still.

I pushed it to the bottom of my heart, to the back of my brain, trying to ignore it, hoping that maybe I could ignore it right out of existence.  Which was stupid.  It doesn’t work that way.

I’ll try to keep not being that girl because honestly, it may be what’s best for me.  When I started pretending not to be that girl, to not be so broken up still, my life did get better, ironically.  I still had bad days, but my life has been getting better, slowly yes, but also steadily.  

I just had to get it all out of my system in one giant gush of melancholy self-pity, admitting finally to the world and to myself that I’m still a wreck, a disaster, a complete mess, all over a boy.  I want to be better.  I want to not be a mess anymore.  I want to not miss him anymore.

After this I’ll put the band-aids back on and pretend that I’m okay, that I’m happy and carefree and okay with my life again.

But for right now, for tonight, I’m gong to let myself fall down again and feel how I feel and not feel bad about feeling bad still, not feel angry at myself for still missing him so much, for still loving him in spite of the bull that went down.  For tonight I’ll let the wounds get some air and breathe and bleed as much as they need to.

In the morning I’ll put the band-aids on and the makeup on and go back to pretending.  Pretending is so much easier on everyone around me, even on me sometimes.

 

 

 

Xx