It's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife
Isn' t it ironic that the day after I wrote that really happy e-mail, I got dumped?
It's so disappointing when you put your trust in people (something you are NOT accustomed to doing naturally because if anything, instinct and past experience have taught you otherwise) and they let you down.
He lied. Always lying. I don't even know if he realizes when he is or what he's doing wrong. It was just downhill from there, one lie after the other...I want, to this very moment, so badly, to believe that he's different. But he's not. He's the gross kind of sameness, cut from the same fabric that the rest of humanity is cut from.
Lied to my face. Several times. B/c he thought he was "protecting me"? No. Because he was a coward and couldn't tell me the truth. Way to save face, jackass.
Now he's dating someone new. 4 days after we broke up. The thing is--I really like her. She's even younger than I am (hello, Dateline). She's going to get hurt. And I want to be there for her when he leaves. And you know, I'm not even doing this to be vindictive (though I have every reason to be, really). I was never planning on telling her that we even dated (though apparently she knows already anyway). I'm not a crazypsychobitch like that...I don't just go around making peoples' lives miserable because I feel wronged.
And wronged I was. He needs someone--not like a significant other, but someone withe nough patience for his bullshit. I have patience, as a friend, and I was willing to be there for him, but he has treated me like I am literally nothing better than the dirt underneath his feet. Of course, he always apologizes the next day, and being the person I am and not being able to hold a grudge, I always forgive him and smile him away...but I can't help feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach as I recognize this all-too-familiar pattern of pain, then apologies.
So I love my Dad. Truly. He's like...one of my favorite people. Ever. I don't depend on people, but I depend on my Daddy. And really, it's always been this way, even if we did have our rough patches...and Idk if it's the cultural differences or what, but my dad used to hit me. It was actually the deciding factor for my mom to stay or go. He hit her too but when he started hitting me, she put her foot down and made him leave.
Anyway. This continued for...a long time. The last time my father laid a hand on me, I believe I was a junior in high school? Maybe a senior. Who knows. I'm not saying I never deserved it, but what he would do was he would hit me and yell at me. I'd go to my room crying. He'd come in like half an hour later and apologize and demand a hug and whatnot and tell me he loves me, etc...I remember sometimes being curled in his embrace and hating him. Wanting to push out of that hug and be like "No. This doesn't erase it or make it okay."
That's what I feel like right now.
Saturday night, me and some friends were at his and Jon's place. Nobody was DRUNK (though I was probably the drunkest of the bunch, to be fair). We were all just sporting around, watching TV. Me and ---- were kinda horsing around in the living room. I was hitting his chest to get him to get out of my hula hoop (long story lol)...basically, and I know he didn't mean to hurt me...out of nowhere, he punched me in the stomach. Like, I know he didn't put full force behind it, but it was enough to sober me right the hell up. I doubled over and coughed--literally, he knocked the wind out of me. If I wasn't drunk, I would have been crying, it hurt so badly.
Rachael said he just stood there smirking (he doesn't really react to pain well) until Jon was like "Dude, aren't you going to apologize?" And even then, I remember he hugged me and tried to lift me up...but he was laughing.
I didn't think much of it. I didn't even remember it until Rachael brought it up...but that was not cool. Esp considering he has anger issues. Esp considering the next night, he yelled and cussed at me at work for something not only completely ridiculous, but utterly and uncontrollably unrelated to me whatsoever.
I've never had anyone tell me to "get out of their fucking face." Ever. Least of all when I wasn't even touching/facing him. Or yelling at him. This was his response to my query, "Are you really mad about this?"
That was the last straw. I told him I didn't care what he did after that. Because I don't. How can I invest any sort of emotional attention into someone who voluntarily hurts me?
He always apologizes. But words are cheap. And frankly, they're getting pretty fucking old.
It's so disappointing when you put your trust in people (something you are NOT accustomed to doing naturally because if anything, instinct and past experience have taught you otherwise) and they let you down.
He lied. Always lying. I don't even know if he realizes when he is or what he's doing wrong. It was just downhill from there, one lie after the other...I want, to this very moment, so badly, to believe that he's different. But he's not. He's the gross kind of sameness, cut from the same fabric that the rest of humanity is cut from.
Lied to my face. Several times. B/c he thought he was "protecting me"? No. Because he was a coward and couldn't tell me the truth. Way to save face, jackass.
Now he's dating someone new. 4 days after we broke up. The thing is--I really like her. She's even younger than I am (hello, Dateline). She's going to get hurt. And I want to be there for her when he leaves. And you know, I'm not even doing this to be vindictive (though I have every reason to be, really). I was never planning on telling her that we even dated (though apparently she knows already anyway). I'm not a crazypsychobitch like that...I don't just go around making peoples' lives miserable because I feel wronged.
And wronged I was. He needs someone--not like a significant other, but someone withe nough patience for his bullshit. I have patience, as a friend, and I was willing to be there for him, but he has treated me like I am literally nothing better than the dirt underneath his feet. Of course, he always apologizes the next day, and being the person I am and not being able to hold a grudge, I always forgive him and smile him away...but I can't help feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach as I recognize this all-too-familiar pattern of pain, then apologies.
So I love my Dad. Truly. He's like...one of my favorite people. Ever. I don't depend on people, but I depend on my Daddy. And really, it's always been this way, even if we did have our rough patches...and Idk if it's the cultural differences or what, but my dad used to hit me. It was actually the deciding factor for my mom to stay or go. He hit her too but when he started hitting me, she put her foot down and made him leave.
Anyway. This continued for...a long time. The last time my father laid a hand on me, I believe I was a junior in high school? Maybe a senior. Who knows. I'm not saying I never deserved it, but what he would do was he would hit me and yell at me. I'd go to my room crying. He'd come in like half an hour later and apologize and demand a hug and whatnot and tell me he loves me, etc...I remember sometimes being curled in his embrace and hating him. Wanting to push out of that hug and be like "No. This doesn't erase it or make it okay."
That's what I feel like right now.
Saturday night, me and some friends were at his and Jon's place. Nobody was DRUNK (though I was probably the drunkest of the bunch, to be fair). We were all just sporting around, watching TV. Me and ---- were kinda horsing around in the living room. I was hitting his chest to get him to get out of my hula hoop (long story lol)...basically, and I know he didn't mean to hurt me...out of nowhere, he punched me in the stomach. Like, I know he didn't put full force behind it, but it was enough to sober me right the hell up. I doubled over and coughed--literally, he knocked the wind out of me. If I wasn't drunk, I would have been crying, it hurt so badly.
Rachael said he just stood there smirking (he doesn't really react to pain well) until Jon was like "Dude, aren't you going to apologize?" And even then, I remember he hugged me and tried to lift me up...but he was laughing.
I didn't think much of it. I didn't even remember it until Rachael brought it up...but that was not cool. Esp considering he has anger issues. Esp considering the next night, he yelled and cussed at me at work for something not only completely ridiculous, but utterly and uncontrollably unrelated to me whatsoever.
I've never had anyone tell me to "get out of their fucking face." Ever. Least of all when I wasn't even touching/facing him. Or yelling at him. This was his response to my query, "Are you really mad about this?"
That was the last straw. I told him I didn't care what he did after that. Because I don't. How can I invest any sort of emotional attention into someone who voluntarily hurts me?
He always apologizes. But words are cheap. And frankly, they're getting pretty fucking old.