07 | Same Old Song - G
And even now, I have an intense desire to save him from himself. Even now, a year and a half later, I have a need to wrap him in my arms and tell him “Everything is alright; it’s ok.” I would know it was a lie, he would know it was a lie, but it would comfort us both (at least for the time being). He would cry (because he was always far more emotional than even I and he was always the one who cried) and I would kiss his tears away and be strong for him (because as broken as I was, he had always been even more far gone).
And no matter what I did he would always still need more (more attention, more affection, more sex) to make him feel whole, but he had so many missing pieces that I didn’t think he could ever be whole again (not with me, not when I needed to be put back together in true Humpty Dumpty fashion). And even though now we’ve gone our separate ways (he’s moved on, I’ve moved on and it doesn’t hurt anymore) I still don’t want to see him hurting. He tore down my walls and made it hard for me to breathe, much less function, but I still don’t want him to feel that way (because I know how it feels and it hurts so so badly).
And despite everything he put me through (the tears, the heartbreak, the screaming and the fighting and the nights spent wide awake wondering what was so incredibly wrong with me) I still care enough to not want him to feel this way; I don’t want him lying helpless on the floor, crying and crying and lost and scared and hurt. I can’t watch it; I can’t let it happen.
But he deserves it, he deserves how he’s feeling because he made me feel the same way. He deserves it because he is an asshole and he is selfish and only cares about himself (always has been self-centered, always had thought of him, not me). I can’t get myself to not feel bad that he is hurting so deeply.
And I’m still helpless. I still have no effect, positive or negative, on him. I was never what he needed (not neede3d, not wanted). He doesn’t even think of me anymore. Maybe on occasion when he has no one else to talk to, no one else to listen, to care despite him being such a prick.
And I still do. I still care, I still think of him, I still get reminded of him, I still worry about him. I still want (need) to comfort him, to reassure him. To maybe somehow get him to realize (or even just think; second-guess) that he made a mistake and he misses me, wants me back.
But he doesn’t. He won’t, couldn’t. It’s been too long. I’m not good enough (never was, never will be). I wasn’t what he needed, what he wanted. It’s my fault for pushing (I pushed him away). My fault-it’s always my fault.
And yet I still need him. Even now, I miss him holding me in his arms, I miss his kisses (I miss his sex). But at the same time I hate him so much (hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate him). He hurt me so badly and yet here I am, hoping he does not ever experience the excruciating pain he had caused me, wanting to cure the feeling of emptiness he holds and make him happy again.
It’s ridiculous, really. If I couldn’t be what he needed when we were together, how could I possibly be what he needs now? Yet that is just the way I am, always wanting to make sure no one else hurts, no one else knows pain the way I have. I see how far it has gotten me (nowhere) and I persist to care.
Maybe someday it will end and I will be just like him-untouched, uncaring; separated from the rest of the world to a point where, while I may feel a bit of remorse for hurting someone, I will never be truly torn up about it because I will never truly get close enough to someone to care about whether or not I hurt them.
And no matter what I did he would always still need more (more attention, more affection, more sex) to make him feel whole, but he had so many missing pieces that I didn’t think he could ever be whole again (not with me, not when I needed to be put back together in true Humpty Dumpty fashion). And even though now we’ve gone our separate ways (he’s moved on, I’ve moved on and it doesn’t hurt anymore) I still don’t want to see him hurting. He tore down my walls and made it hard for me to breathe, much less function, but I still don’t want him to feel that way (because I know how it feels and it hurts so so badly).
And despite everything he put me through (the tears, the heartbreak, the screaming and the fighting and the nights spent wide awake wondering what was so incredibly wrong with me) I still care enough to not want him to feel this way; I don’t want him lying helpless on the floor, crying and crying and lost and scared and hurt. I can’t watch it; I can’t let it happen.
But he deserves it, he deserves how he’s feeling because he made me feel the same way. He deserves it because he is an asshole and he is selfish and only cares about himself (always has been self-centered, always had thought of him, not me). I can’t get myself to not feel bad that he is hurting so deeply.
And I’m still helpless. I still have no effect, positive or negative, on him. I was never what he needed (not neede3d, not wanted). He doesn’t even think of me anymore. Maybe on occasion when he has no one else to talk to, no one else to listen, to care despite him being such a prick.
And I still do. I still care, I still think of him, I still get reminded of him, I still worry about him. I still want (need) to comfort him, to reassure him. To maybe somehow get him to realize (or even just think; second-guess) that he made a mistake and he misses me, wants me back.
But he doesn’t. He won’t, couldn’t. It’s been too long. I’m not good enough (never was, never will be). I wasn’t what he needed, what he wanted. It’s my fault for pushing (I pushed him away). My fault-it’s always my fault.
And yet I still need him. Even now, I miss him holding me in his arms, I miss his kisses (I miss his sex). But at the same time I hate him so much (hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate him). He hurt me so badly and yet here I am, hoping he does not ever experience the excruciating pain he had caused me, wanting to cure the feeling of emptiness he holds and make him happy again.
It’s ridiculous, really. If I couldn’t be what he needed when we were together, how could I possibly be what he needs now? Yet that is just the way I am, always wanting to make sure no one else hurts, no one else knows pain the way I have. I see how far it has gotten me (nowhere) and I persist to care.
Maybe someday it will end and I will be just like him-untouched, uncaring; separated from the rest of the world to a point where, while I may feel a bit of remorse for hurting someone, I will never be truly torn up about it because I will never truly get close enough to someone to care about whether or not I hurt them.