(no subject)
Welp. It was fun for the past few years. I think I'm addicted to love. I'm a drunkard when in the midst of it and I'm horribly depressed and suffer withdrawals when deprived of it. It's a drug.
It's not that I'm not loved. I've seen quite the opposite of that this week alone. So much support coming from so many people.
Maybe as an addict, I was too blind to see the signs of things becoming cool and distant.
Even now, I want to have hope. But time erodes more and more of that hope with each passing, anxious moment. A limbo - of my own creation and a torment of my own doing. A fear and a pain that somehow, I've lost my importance, my value, my worth to the one person to whom that opinion mattered most to me.
Have I not been adequate? Am I less desirable in some way?
I'm just a mess.
...I wonder if she liked the flowers...
It's not that I'm not loved. I've seen quite the opposite of that this week alone. So much support coming from so many people.
Maybe as an addict, I was too blind to see the signs of things becoming cool and distant.
Even now, I want to have hope. But time erodes more and more of that hope with each passing, anxious moment. A limbo - of my own creation and a torment of my own doing. A fear and a pain that somehow, I've lost my importance, my value, my worth to the one person to whom that opinion mattered most to me.
Have I not been adequate? Am I less desirable in some way?
I'm just a mess.
...I wonder if she liked the flowers...