(no subject)
This is bound to be a long one, just from the span of thoughts running through my head.
Day three: miserable. Just absolutely as low as I can sink i seems. The day went through stages, and my emotions have bounced around so much, I think that must be the reason I feel ill.
I woke up in a passable mood, despite the internal turmoil, it all shuts off when I go to sleep and I've been sleeping really well, actually. However, left alone with my own thoughts, things get ugly, and by the time I got to work I was really really angry. I don't like being angry, I really don't like any of the feelings I feel right about now. And last night at book club helped stave off a lot, and talking with Terry was good, but I thought about the things we discussed, and oh so much anger came out. To paraphrase Mr. Knightley on the subject of that punkass Frank Churchill, he got everything he wanted with little cost to himself, and drastic cost to others. I think that's very true. My hopes and dreams are crushed, and I'm alone and upset, and I have no one to be my support, whereas the other half of this drama, he has someone. In fact, he's cutting me loose to get her. Terry was pissed off about it, I'm just depressed. Once again, a wonderful person by all accounts, but I'm still not the right choice.
The other thing that was burning me up this morning was the horrible fear that he either had decided this beforehand and was leading me on for God knows how long while I blissfully thought that it might be my turn this time OR that something happened between last Thursday and Sunday to change everything and he decided to be with her, and that my presence/feelings/whatever were irrelevant. In either case, I'm still a fool for buying in like I did, and it makes me so furious.
In the afternoon, however, I was sad. So sad. I missed him, I miss him now, and I feel like everything's over with, and even though we plan to be friends, I am terrified that I will never see him again, and it breaks my heart even more than it is already broken. Oh, it all hurts. I miss the little things that used to brighten my day, and I feel so alone and discouraged about my life. By the way, I told you there would be rampant melancholy, so if you're done with the whining, I suggest you head back to Youtube already.
Oh, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. I don't know how I'm going to get over this, how to let go of this awful ache that is buried inside of me. I hate feeling sad and miserable and angry over things that I obviously cannot fix or change, and I hate thinking that I let this happen and that it's all my own damn fault, why didn't I see it coming, why did I let myself get so vulnerable? I hate when I get all choked up over something that used to make me happy, and the harsh fact that I'm going to be really unhappy for a really long time.
And I haven't even gotten to the seizing terror that the upcoming weekend holds for me. Let's just say there are many ways this weekend could be an epic fail for me, and that hurts too, because I've been waiting for this weekend for a long, long time. Now it's here and I'm so scared.
Today's Preferred Method of Death: a bottle of vodka, a box of dynamite, and three matches. It'll at least make for interesting headlines.
Three things keeping me from said fate: mac and cheese for dinner, Santa Fe next week, and Jack will be home at 9ish.
Also kudos to Julie at book club who made whoopie pies last night. I ate four.
Day three: miserable. Just absolutely as low as I can sink i seems. The day went through stages, and my emotions have bounced around so much, I think that must be the reason I feel ill.
I woke up in a passable mood, despite the internal turmoil, it all shuts off when I go to sleep and I've been sleeping really well, actually. However, left alone with my own thoughts, things get ugly, and by the time I got to work I was really really angry. I don't like being angry, I really don't like any of the feelings I feel right about now. And last night at book club helped stave off a lot, and talking with Terry was good, but I thought about the things we discussed, and oh so much anger came out. To paraphrase Mr. Knightley on the subject of that punkass Frank Churchill, he got everything he wanted with little cost to himself, and drastic cost to others. I think that's very true. My hopes and dreams are crushed, and I'm alone and upset, and I have no one to be my support, whereas the other half of this drama, he has someone. In fact, he's cutting me loose to get her. Terry was pissed off about it, I'm just depressed. Once again, a wonderful person by all accounts, but I'm still not the right choice.
The other thing that was burning me up this morning was the horrible fear that he either had decided this beforehand and was leading me on for God knows how long while I blissfully thought that it might be my turn this time OR that something happened between last Thursday and Sunday to change everything and he decided to be with her, and that my presence/feelings/whatever were irrelevant. In either case, I'm still a fool for buying in like I did, and it makes me so furious.
In the afternoon, however, I was sad. So sad. I missed him, I miss him now, and I feel like everything's over with, and even though we plan to be friends, I am terrified that I will never see him again, and it breaks my heart even more than it is already broken. Oh, it all hurts. I miss the little things that used to brighten my day, and I feel so alone and discouraged about my life. By the way, I told you there would be rampant melancholy, so if you're done with the whining, I suggest you head back to Youtube already.
Oh, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. I don't know how I'm going to get over this, how to let go of this awful ache that is buried inside of me. I hate feeling sad and miserable and angry over things that I obviously cannot fix or change, and I hate thinking that I let this happen and that it's all my own damn fault, why didn't I see it coming, why did I let myself get so vulnerable? I hate when I get all choked up over something that used to make me happy, and the harsh fact that I'm going to be really unhappy for a really long time.
And I haven't even gotten to the seizing terror that the upcoming weekend holds for me. Let's just say there are many ways this weekend could be an epic fail for me, and that hurts too, because I've been waiting for this weekend for a long, long time. Now it's here and I'm so scared.
Today's Preferred Method of Death: a bottle of vodka, a box of dynamite, and three matches. It'll at least make for interesting headlines.
Three things keeping me from said fate: mac and cheese for dinner, Santa Fe next week, and Jack will be home at 9ish.
Also kudos to Julie at book club who made whoopie pies last night. I ate four.