Today...
I remembered what it's like to be a realist. And today, I decided to reacquaint myself with that place.
I don't know how to do this anymore. I used to know what the protocol was, what exactly was expected of me, and I used to be alright with that. I'm not anymore. I can't be. Not really.
I used to appease myself with the thought that somewhere, deep deep inside you you actually gave a shit about me. About mine. And you know... every single time I try to comfort myself with that bullshit, I remember that it is exactly that - bullshit. You... repeatedly show me exactly how little I mean to you, as a friend or otherwise. And you know, the fact that it hurts *this* much is my fault, my doing. I let myself entertain thoughts of a reality that would never exist, because I let myself take comfort in your actions. You know, the empty ones.
I'm not mad at you, really. I'm more mad at myself for letting it get so far with me. I let myself indulge in things that were never real. That would never be real. I let myself fall into you and forgot to give myself a rope in case I needed to climb back out again. How foolish I was to assume that you'd want me too.
Maybe the All sends you back to me to humble me, to remind me how very little importance is attributed to me. To remind me how fragile the human mind and heart can be. To remind me that I can feel, and do... even and especially when those emotions suck. But you know... I am tired of praying to them for you... over you. I am tired of praying that they send you my way to at least *try* to see what being together would be like equally as much as I am tired of praying for help to get over you.
I asked for help from the All to let you go the other day. What they've sent me in return is anger, and tears. These things, ultimately, will make it so I let you go, so I don't crave your stupid humor or your touches, so empty of purpose, this is true. But these things will make me hate you, and hate me even more. Because I don't want to cry anymore, especially not over someone I have never truly had. I hate you for making me fall in love with you, and I hate me for letting that foolish girl's hope of 'because there is love here, it'll work out' rule over my far more practical mind.
My mom used to tell me that when you fall in love, the fight is always worth it. That when you well and truly fall in love with someone, that it'll work out. Tell them, and everything will fall into place. Well... the fight isn't worth it anymore, and I wish I'd never told you. It cost me the first male friend I made after Jason, and it made me far too blind to see that before now.
This hurts. I hate it.
I don't know how to do this anymore. I used to know what the protocol was, what exactly was expected of me, and I used to be alright with that. I'm not anymore. I can't be. Not really.
I used to appease myself with the thought that somewhere, deep deep inside you you actually gave a shit about me. About mine. And you know... every single time I try to comfort myself with that bullshit, I remember that it is exactly that - bullshit. You... repeatedly show me exactly how little I mean to you, as a friend or otherwise. And you know, the fact that it hurts *this* much is my fault, my doing. I let myself entertain thoughts of a reality that would never exist, because I let myself take comfort in your actions. You know, the empty ones.
I'm not mad at you, really. I'm more mad at myself for letting it get so far with me. I let myself indulge in things that were never real. That would never be real. I let myself fall into you and forgot to give myself a rope in case I needed to climb back out again. How foolish I was to assume that you'd want me too.
Maybe the All sends you back to me to humble me, to remind me how very little importance is attributed to me. To remind me how fragile the human mind and heart can be. To remind me that I can feel, and do... even and especially when those emotions suck. But you know... I am tired of praying to them for you... over you. I am tired of praying that they send you my way to at least *try* to see what being together would be like equally as much as I am tired of praying for help to get over you.
I asked for help from the All to let you go the other day. What they've sent me in return is anger, and tears. These things, ultimately, will make it so I let you go, so I don't crave your stupid humor or your touches, so empty of purpose, this is true. But these things will make me hate you, and hate me even more. Because I don't want to cry anymore, especially not over someone I have never truly had. I hate you for making me fall in love with you, and I hate me for letting that foolish girl's hope of 'because there is love here, it'll work out' rule over my far more practical mind.
My mom used to tell me that when you fall in love, the fight is always worth it. That when you well and truly fall in love with someone, that it'll work out. Tell them, and everything will fall into place. Well... the fight isn't worth it anymore, and I wish I'd never told you. It cost me the first male friend I made after Jason, and it made me far too blind to see that before now.
This hurts. I hate it.