(no subject)
I don't know why this just felt like such an epiphany. I must have realized this before.
I've been focusing a lot lately on P. I realized that the experience of realizing I was in love with him, then having him turn his feelings off really messed with me. I fall rarely and I fall hard and I fall for the strangest of men but I know it when I feel it - and he made me doubt all of that. He made me doubt my ability to know love. I'm doubting it a lot, these days. I can't seem to imagine finding it again, anywhere, from anyone. Not anything real.
Then I heard this song. It's haunting and I couldn't stop listening to it, over and over and over again.
don't you try to tell me someone's waitin', they're not waitin' for you
oh and don't you try to tell me that you're wanted, that you're needed, cause it's not true
i know why you're lonely, it's time you knew it too
no one will ever love you, no one will ever love you, no one will ever love you
like i do
I realized I wasn't singing it to P, but that S was singing it to me. He's always been the easiest explanation for how messed up I am, and it's not without good reason. But it's not just about what happened to him in the end. It's about what he did to me in the beginning. It's that no one has ever loved me like he did.
N was with me for months without ever saying he was with me. A year after he finally cut me off, he confessed that of course he'd been in love with me all along. Too late.
C was the first to tell me he loved me, officially. First to ever call me his girlfriend. And maybe he did love me. Most of me does believe that he did. But not in the way he wanted to. Not in the way that I needed him to. And for the most part, it was all just for show. He used me as much as he loved me. It was fake love as much as it was real.
T, for two magical weeks, made me feel everything I'd ever wanted to feel from a man. Beautiful, and special, and funny, and safe, and loved. Then I went back to New York, and he cut off all communication with me. As if it had been all my imagination.
They all did that to me. P was merely the last straw. Each one made me feel crazy for loving him. And not one has truly loved me... since S. Ten years ago.
I'm pretty messed up. And, god, I really miss my best friends.
I've been focusing a lot lately on P. I realized that the experience of realizing I was in love with him, then having him turn his feelings off really messed with me. I fall rarely and I fall hard and I fall for the strangest of men but I know it when I feel it - and he made me doubt all of that. He made me doubt my ability to know love. I'm doubting it a lot, these days. I can't seem to imagine finding it again, anywhere, from anyone. Not anything real.
Then I heard this song. It's haunting and I couldn't stop listening to it, over and over and over again.
don't you try to tell me someone's waitin', they're not waitin' for you
oh and don't you try to tell me that you're wanted, that you're needed, cause it's not true
i know why you're lonely, it's time you knew it too
no one will ever love you, no one will ever love you, no one will ever love you
like i do
I realized I wasn't singing it to P, but that S was singing it to me. He's always been the easiest explanation for how messed up I am, and it's not without good reason. But it's not just about what happened to him in the end. It's about what he did to me in the beginning. It's that no one has ever loved me like he did.
N was with me for months without ever saying he was with me. A year after he finally cut me off, he confessed that of course he'd been in love with me all along. Too late.
C was the first to tell me he loved me, officially. First to ever call me his girlfriend. And maybe he did love me. Most of me does believe that he did. But not in the way he wanted to. Not in the way that I needed him to. And for the most part, it was all just for show. He used me as much as he loved me. It was fake love as much as it was real.
T, for two magical weeks, made me feel everything I'd ever wanted to feel from a man. Beautiful, and special, and funny, and safe, and loved. Then I went back to New York, and he cut off all communication with me. As if it had been all my imagination.
They all did that to me. P was merely the last straw. Each one made me feel crazy for loving him. And not one has truly loved me... since S. Ten years ago.
I'm pretty messed up. And, god, I really miss my best friends.