(no subject)
If I had any real courage I would tell you the truth of how I feel to your face. Or at least to you directly. I wouldn't just post it on a blog site that has long since lost its relevance and that you probably don't even know I have. Hell, Facebook would even be braver than this. But, oh well.
You're a fucking bastard and I hope you're happy. I'm sure you are, actually, as that's what everything I see and hear indicates. And it doesn't have to matter to you how much I'm not because you'll never know anyway. Yeah, did you actually believe we'd keep in touch after I moved out of your house? I wanted to think it would work that way, but it seemed you were actually insane enough to believe it.
It's amazing to me how much I tried and how little it feels any of it meant. You taught me how to open up and love someone with my whole heart. Before you, I didn't think I ever would or even could be like that with another person.
And now I know why. Because it's fucking pointless, that's why. Because "true love" is ephemeral, just like happiness and beauty, and to put in all the work and sacrifice that I did in its name is a waste of one's goddamn time. I now know not to be so naïve again. At least that's a lesson from you that should stick.
And I am so confused in my life right now. Remember how you were only the fourth sexual partner I'd ever had, and how it had taken me nearly seven years to get to that number? Since the very end of June, when I started sleeping with everyone, that number has more than tripled. Earlier tonight, I had my thirteenth. In a month and a half, I have turned into a person I barely even recognise. And it still worries me sometimes. And I don't know how to handle it.
Don't worry, though, you wouldn't have to break your brain too hard. It's been mostly strangers and randoms. You've only ever met one of the people I've slept with and only ever even potentially heard of one other. The latter, by the way, has taught me that I'm nowhere near as "I don't give a fuck" about this as I like to think I am. My emotions toward the situation of this bloke bailing on our fucking to pursue an actual relationship is very confusing to me and I guess I'll just have to keep accepting every proposition that comes my way to deal with that on top of everything still lingering from you.
But, anyway, I am so tired. I am just so fucking tired. And I'm almost okay with the fact that you haven't bothered to contact me in over a month because I know that I can't actually talk to you at this point. But is it too much to ask to feel like you still give a damn? It's over, I get it, and if there's any chance that we'll ever get it back...I've accepted that it probably isn't ever going to happen, and that it won't be in the very near future if it does.
But you need to get your head the fuck out of your ass and wake up and realise that your actions have had consequences, and not just with me. I think that's the worst of all. For as much hell as I've gone through with this, for as much as you really and truly hurt me, I'm not the only one who was affected by it all. And I don't even think you realise what you've done and how you've fucked people over. And someone really needs to sit you down and open your eyes.
But, for as awful as it seems, I'm kind of glad it won't be me.
You know...
You gave me the happiest time of my life and you helped me make a lot of personal progress. And you were worried that, after all of this, it wouldn't stick. That all that growth would have become for nothing. And I see now that it's not true.
Because if you give hope to the hopeless and then brutally tear it back out from under them, that will always stick. Don't worry, all our time together will never turn out to be for nothing. I am more bitter and jaded toward life as we know it than ever before.
So, thanks, I guess. I could never have properly given up without you.
You're a fucking bastard and I hope you're happy. I'm sure you are, actually, as that's what everything I see and hear indicates. And it doesn't have to matter to you how much I'm not because you'll never know anyway. Yeah, did you actually believe we'd keep in touch after I moved out of your house? I wanted to think it would work that way, but it seemed you were actually insane enough to believe it.
It's amazing to me how much I tried and how little it feels any of it meant. You taught me how to open up and love someone with my whole heart. Before you, I didn't think I ever would or even could be like that with another person.
And now I know why. Because it's fucking pointless, that's why. Because "true love" is ephemeral, just like happiness and beauty, and to put in all the work and sacrifice that I did in its name is a waste of one's goddamn time. I now know not to be so naïve again. At least that's a lesson from you that should stick.
And I am so confused in my life right now. Remember how you were only the fourth sexual partner I'd ever had, and how it had taken me nearly seven years to get to that number? Since the very end of June, when I started sleeping with everyone, that number has more than tripled. Earlier tonight, I had my thirteenth. In a month and a half, I have turned into a person I barely even recognise. And it still worries me sometimes. And I don't know how to handle it.
Don't worry, though, you wouldn't have to break your brain too hard. It's been mostly strangers and randoms. You've only ever met one of the people I've slept with and only ever even potentially heard of one other. The latter, by the way, has taught me that I'm nowhere near as "I don't give a fuck" about this as I like to think I am. My emotions toward the situation of this bloke bailing on our fucking to pursue an actual relationship is very confusing to me and I guess I'll just have to keep accepting every proposition that comes my way to deal with that on top of everything still lingering from you.
But, anyway, I am so tired. I am just so fucking tired. And I'm almost okay with the fact that you haven't bothered to contact me in over a month because I know that I can't actually talk to you at this point. But is it too much to ask to feel like you still give a damn? It's over, I get it, and if there's any chance that we'll ever get it back...I've accepted that it probably isn't ever going to happen, and that it won't be in the very near future if it does.
But you need to get your head the fuck out of your ass and wake up and realise that your actions have had consequences, and not just with me. I think that's the worst of all. For as much hell as I've gone through with this, for as much as you really and truly hurt me, I'm not the only one who was affected by it all. And I don't even think you realise what you've done and how you've fucked people over. And someone really needs to sit you down and open your eyes.
But, for as awful as it seems, I'm kind of glad it won't be me.
You know...
You gave me the happiest time of my life and you helped me make a lot of personal progress. And you were worried that, after all of this, it wouldn't stick. That all that growth would have become for nothing. And I see now that it's not true.
Because if you give hope to the hopeless and then brutally tear it back out from under them, that will always stick. Don't worry, all our time together will never turn out to be for nothing. I am more bitter and jaded toward life as we know it than ever before.
So, thanks, I guess. I could never have properly given up without you.