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I'm back to crying about Martin when I'm alone in bed trying to sleep at night.
It's the most painful thing that I've ever gone through, and I've done it so many times in the past six months or so that you would think I'd have become used to it by now, or at least accustomed in some way. But every time it hurts like new. The feeling of betrayal, of waste, of pain. Lee and I talked about it a little yesterday, but nothing really encouraging was said. The only encouraging thing was that Lee seemed to understand what I was going through, especially about the physical stuff. He told me that the same thing was going on with him and Milan, because Milan has dated all these other guys and kissed all these other guys; but he can't be as free with himself, with his body. I guess he slept with Quinn, this girl who he was kind of seeing for a couple of days; and what he told me was that he didn't feel good about it afterwards, not even the next morning, because he realized that he kind of forced himself to do it, he forced himself to sleep with her. We both awknowledged at that point how much it sucked for me, because Teen of all people is probably one of the most free and giving of his body (ahem: slutty) and is pretty careless with the girls he gives it too, because ordinarily they want more from him, and he just kind of leaves them in the dust. The worst part about the conversation was that I realized that he had done that exact thing to me; and that he had actually done something I asked him never to do to me, which is treat me or use me in the same way he did Katie German, or Lindsay SophomoreGirl, or a couple of the other girls he's been with. I can't for the life of me get myself to want to be with anybody physically other than Teen. It's not like I haven't had the opportunity, or couldn't create the opportunity myself. And it's not like I'm closed to the idea! It's just that any time I see the chance, I just can't get myself excited or attracted or okay with the idea of him-- whatever he the him happens to be-- touching me, getting that close to me.
I feel like I've been robbed of something. I feel like I've been robbed of my capacity to become infatuated or to crush or even to love, possibly. I feel guilty for even believing that love-- romantic love-- even exists. I grasp and cling desperately to the notion and the theory that there is such a thing as Fateful, Destined, Gut-wrenching, Soulful, LOVE-- the kind that exists between two people MEANT for each other; the kind that can OVERCOME obstacles; TRANSCEND distance and time; and that can even happen AT FIRST SIGHT. But I feel like I'm a fool to believe in those things. Is there really True Love? or is it all a matter of chemistry, and of a certain amount of compatibility?
I used to think I knew the answer to that, but now I'm not so sure. I'm tired of going to sleep with wet eyes, and I'm tired of waiting to move to LA just so I can be out of his reach. I'm tired of thinking of my first love as this callous, hurtful being that haunts and takes advantage of me. I'm so tired.