(no subject)
I really want to write a coherent post. I do. I want to write well, and with meaning, but all I can do is write what I'm thinking. Because I can't say this stuff out loud. I look at my phone, and who can I call? I just want to call him, and normally I would just be calling Micah. But he's gone, and we're done, forever, so I only have this. This online journal, that no one sees, but I secretly hope someone does, so I can feel like I'm telling someone.
Everything in the last two and a half years is Micah based. Everything I own, everything I've done, everything I've seen, eaten, drank, tried, read, written, has Micah all over it.
Every movie, every song, every album, every single thing, was Micah. Not on purpose, but that's how we were. That's the way we were, and now, I have to focus on things before that.
The new thing I'm trying is remembering past break ups. Because they feel so pleasant compared to this. This. This is literally the entire world I've built, that I've loved, that has created me, has been stolen. It's been taken back. It's like someone showed you the world that you wanted, then offered it to you for free, and then suddenly decided you weren't worthy of that life. Of that kind of happiness.
So here I am, drinking Jameson, alone, in my aparatment, and I am getting used to the waves. There are just waves of total and complete grief that wash over me and I gasp, and I can't quite cry, and it's so painful. He did this to me. And that makes it worse.
Every little thing has Micah in it. Watching the way a boy looks at his lady, watching Mario and Nick, everything, just screams Micah.
I never felt unloved. That's part of why I hate this. I never felt like he didn't love me. I know he still does, but I am not the person that he wants a life with. So as much as he yells and says that this isn't me, it's him, I won't believe him, because I know better.
So I sit here, with my Jameson, and my pack of cigarettes, watching 500 Days of Summer because I feel better watching someone else in pain, and I never really liked Joseph Gordon-Levitt's character anyway, so I was glad that Summer was happy with someone else, and I love the part where it shows the split screen of what he expected, and reality. Word, dude. Word.
But I've already learned that I can't watch Away We Go. I turned it on today and turned into the world's saddest sack.
Micah and I saw it after I got back from Italy. I cried through almost the whole thing, and it's not even a really sad movie. And Micah would reach over and wipe away my tears. Literally. Not like a joke, but he would do that. He didn't want them to fall. Like, if he was able to get them off my face before they fell, I could be happy again.
I saw us as the couple in Away We Go. In every single way. So happy, but not gushing, or over the top, but just true. So simple, and pure. That's what we were. We were two best friends, who fell in love, and built a life, built an entire world, with people and homes and jobs and so much love, and it was our own perfect world. And he doesn't want it anymore.
And here I am, becoming the psycho ex. And I just, I don't know how to do this gracefully, I never figured it out.
I don't care. It doesn't matter, does it?
Did you know I inadvertently made a great break up playlist like a month ago? I realized it last night, on my way home after getting really really drunk with Emily, and getting hit on by a bouncer, and feeling like the most directionless, purposeless person in the world, I found it. I had already made the playlist. I didn't have to make a new one.
Maybe I knew. Maybe I always knew we would end.
Everything in the last two and a half years is Micah based. Everything I own, everything I've done, everything I've seen, eaten, drank, tried, read, written, has Micah all over it.
Every movie, every song, every album, every single thing, was Micah. Not on purpose, but that's how we were. That's the way we were, and now, I have to focus on things before that.
The new thing I'm trying is remembering past break ups. Because they feel so pleasant compared to this. This. This is literally the entire world I've built, that I've loved, that has created me, has been stolen. It's been taken back. It's like someone showed you the world that you wanted, then offered it to you for free, and then suddenly decided you weren't worthy of that life. Of that kind of happiness.
So here I am, drinking Jameson, alone, in my aparatment, and I am getting used to the waves. There are just waves of total and complete grief that wash over me and I gasp, and I can't quite cry, and it's so painful. He did this to me. And that makes it worse.
Every little thing has Micah in it. Watching the way a boy looks at his lady, watching Mario and Nick, everything, just screams Micah.
I never felt unloved. That's part of why I hate this. I never felt like he didn't love me. I know he still does, but I am not the person that he wants a life with. So as much as he yells and says that this isn't me, it's him, I won't believe him, because I know better.
So I sit here, with my Jameson, and my pack of cigarettes, watching 500 Days of Summer because I feel better watching someone else in pain, and I never really liked Joseph Gordon-Levitt's character anyway, so I was glad that Summer was happy with someone else, and I love the part where it shows the split screen of what he expected, and reality. Word, dude. Word.
But I've already learned that I can't watch Away We Go. I turned it on today and turned into the world's saddest sack.
Micah and I saw it after I got back from Italy. I cried through almost the whole thing, and it's not even a really sad movie. And Micah would reach over and wipe away my tears. Literally. Not like a joke, but he would do that. He didn't want them to fall. Like, if he was able to get them off my face before they fell, I could be happy again.
I saw us as the couple in Away We Go. In every single way. So happy, but not gushing, or over the top, but just true. So simple, and pure. That's what we were. We were two best friends, who fell in love, and built a life, built an entire world, with people and homes and jobs and so much love, and it was our own perfect world. And he doesn't want it anymore.
And here I am, becoming the psycho ex. And I just, I don't know how to do this gracefully, I never figured it out.
I don't care. It doesn't matter, does it?
Did you know I inadvertently made a great break up playlist like a month ago? I realized it last night, on my way home after getting really really drunk with Emily, and getting hit on by a bouncer, and feeling like the most directionless, purposeless person in the world, I found it. I had already made the playlist. I didn't have to make a new one.
Maybe I knew. Maybe I always knew we would end.