Thoughts of loneliness...
Luck is one thing. I've had, essentially, seven relationships in four years run afoul, and almost all of them ended on virtually the same note(lasted three-four months, then lingered as an uncomfortable friendship for a few more months). That's not luck. That's a sign that I'm somehow fundamentally incoherent in either my choices, my action, or my behavior.
And it is, in the end, still my insecurity.
I have regrets for almost every one which failed, and regrets which are fundamentally tied to the fact that I did not act when given the opportunity. I dislike change in general, I think; I'll rather wait and hope for things to magically work out rather than put in any effort for it. In almost every one of my relationships, I've allowed the girl to initiate it and control it, then more or less let it kinda linger without any effort to improve it. To be honest, I think that I usually have very little interest in the girl when a relationship is secure - and sometimes actively push her away.
Only when she is gone do I realize how much I've come to miss her. And by then, its far too late.
I think, deep down inside, I expect things to end badly for me. And subconsciously, I work to bring it about into my reality. Its a self-fulfilling prophesy.
But maybe seven is a magic number. There will not be an eighth time, not in this mold.
And it is, in the end, still my insecurity.
I have regrets for almost every one which failed, and regrets which are fundamentally tied to the fact that I did not act when given the opportunity. I dislike change in general, I think; I'll rather wait and hope for things to magically work out rather than put in any effort for it. In almost every one of my relationships, I've allowed the girl to initiate it and control it, then more or less let it kinda linger without any effort to improve it. To be honest, I think that I usually have very little interest in the girl when a relationship is secure - and sometimes actively push her away.
Only when she is gone do I realize how much I've come to miss her. And by then, its far too late.
I think, deep down inside, I expect things to end badly for me. And subconsciously, I work to bring it about into my reality. Its a self-fulfilling prophesy.
But maybe seven is a magic number. There will not be an eighth time, not in this mold.