The memories are going to kill me.
I have to write this somwhere, and it's either here or facebook. Posting it to facebook, though, risks losing that friendship.
It's the memories that are going to kill me. It's the memories that, almost 5 weeks later, can dampen my eyes in an instant.
I haven't ever liked a lot of people, and loved fewer. It's not that I'm intensely picky, it's that I don't trust anyone; that I can't trust anyone.
I remember every damn thing, and I keep telling myself the experience, the love, the kindness makes me a better person, but all it's doing is putting me back to where I was, only more aware of where I'm at. I keep kicking myself for letting it happen.
She was better than me, she fucking was and I knew it, but it gave me reason to be better than me too and I fucking was. I changed, completely. Kristina was a drug for me and I don't mean that in a fucked up way. She could bring a smile to my face with greater ease than anyone. I could talk to her, I could talk to other people because I felt better, I could look her in the eyes.
It. was. everything.
I remember the light flirting. I remember the first kiss. I remember the first time she touched my leg. I think I'm going crazy.
I remember our first night sleeping together, and I remember how she wanted to come to my bed the night before, and almost did. I remember our first time together. I remember very sweet things that she said.
I remember, and wonder if I should regret, the honesty. I never lied to her, even if I disagreed about something. I wanted to love her and her to love me for what I really was.
I remember the first time she had a hard mood swing and how sweet she was to me about it. She was struggling with her own demons but she knew...I'm different...than a lot of people and that I would take that kind of thing personal. She knew and she let me know that it wasn't me.
I remember the first time we drank together. I remember exactly what Tequila does to her, and it was an amazing thing to watch. She lowered some defenses, she became a little goofy--she picked up my keyboard, because she was using my computer, and it was rotated 180 so she couldn't find the button she was looking for.. I turned it around right, and we laughed and laughed.
I remember how nothing mattered to me, life seemed better, my sole & only requirement for happiness was doing right by her. I remember trying very hard, perhaps--I acknowledge--too hard but I'm at a dumb point in a wasted life and there's simply not a lot I can do for her.
I remember the first night her son slept over, he was supposed to sleep on the couch but he loves his mom so came in around midnight and asked if he could climb in bed. She asked me, and I of course didn't mind if she didn't and she put him between us and wrapped her arms around him and found my hand and interlaced her fingers in mine.
I remember the feel of her hand then, as I remember the first time she kissed me.
I remember her second crash, the one that lasted for weeks and I kick myself again and again wondering if I did the right thing, but I gave her space, and let her be, and did what I could to take care of her. I remember how it felt as she withdrew. I remember the kisses and touching became less frequent, and more important.
I remember so much and it's not enough. I remember the love letters I wrote for her, one of which detailed all my memories.
I remember the fun facebook comment threads.
I remember the last night we slept (slept) together. All of her children were staying that weekend and I surrendered my bedroom for the next 3 days because she was so down, and I thought maybe they could boost her spirits in a way that I couldn't. I remember 3 days later when, unrelated, I made the dumbest decision I've ever made: I told her I could tell she wasn't happy here and I simply desired her happiness more than my own.
I remember, after, a week long conversation we had through messages, because there was a lot to say and I remember the sheer frustration with myself when I realized I couldn't save it. I couldn't have it back. I didn't give it up, I merely surrendered.
I remember how kind she has been through the entirety of it. She's been sweet and I'm nearly obliterated. If she'd chosen to be mean, I can't fathom how much worse I'd be.
It makes me feel so good to go back and read private writings, remembering how great life was for that short time, and then I crash.
I wake up and go to sleep with her on my mind every single day. I cannot sleep without my anxiety medication. The first and last thought on my mind is that she's not here.
I remember how she taught and coaxed me to look her in the eyes. She knew it was hard for me and let me know how much it meant to her that I'd look her in the eyes.
I remember stupid decisions on my part too.
Edit: I've sorely wanted to trust before and have met at least two people totally worthy of complete trust, even if I failed, or fail, to give it entirely. One of which is my brother Mike, and the other is my buddy down-under =). I gave that trust to the wrong person. I'm not saying she didn't deserve it or that she deliberately hurt me, I'm saying the aftereffects are just...crippling.
Sometime mid next year, I'm gonna try to see a shrink. I really am beginning to think that crazy isn't just a joke.
It's the memories that are going to kill me. It's the memories that, almost 5 weeks later, can dampen my eyes in an instant.
I haven't ever liked a lot of people, and loved fewer. It's not that I'm intensely picky, it's that I don't trust anyone; that I can't trust anyone.
I remember every damn thing, and I keep telling myself the experience, the love, the kindness makes me a better person, but all it's doing is putting me back to where I was, only more aware of where I'm at. I keep kicking myself for letting it happen.
She was better than me, she fucking was and I knew it, but it gave me reason to be better than me too and I fucking was. I changed, completely. Kristina was a drug for me and I don't mean that in a fucked up way. She could bring a smile to my face with greater ease than anyone. I could talk to her, I could talk to other people because I felt better, I could look her in the eyes.
It. was. everything.
I remember the light flirting. I remember the first kiss. I remember the first time she touched my leg. I think I'm going crazy.
I remember our first night sleeping together, and I remember how she wanted to come to my bed the night before, and almost did. I remember our first time together. I remember very sweet things that she said.
I remember, and wonder if I should regret, the honesty. I never lied to her, even if I disagreed about something. I wanted to love her and her to love me for what I really was.
I remember the first time she had a hard mood swing and how sweet she was to me about it. She was struggling with her own demons but she knew...I'm different...than a lot of people and that I would take that kind of thing personal. She knew and she let me know that it wasn't me.
I remember the first time we drank together. I remember exactly what Tequila does to her, and it was an amazing thing to watch. She lowered some defenses, she became a little goofy--she picked up my keyboard, because she was using my computer, and it was rotated 180 so she couldn't find the button she was looking for.. I turned it around right, and we laughed and laughed.
I remember how nothing mattered to me, life seemed better, my sole & only requirement for happiness was doing right by her. I remember trying very hard, perhaps--I acknowledge--too hard but I'm at a dumb point in a wasted life and there's simply not a lot I can do for her.
I remember the first night her son slept over, he was supposed to sleep on the couch but he loves his mom so came in around midnight and asked if he could climb in bed. She asked me, and I of course didn't mind if she didn't and she put him between us and wrapped her arms around him and found my hand and interlaced her fingers in mine.
I remember the feel of her hand then, as I remember the first time she kissed me.
I remember her second crash, the one that lasted for weeks and I kick myself again and again wondering if I did the right thing, but I gave her space, and let her be, and did what I could to take care of her. I remember how it felt as she withdrew. I remember the kisses and touching became less frequent, and more important.
I remember so much and it's not enough. I remember the love letters I wrote for her, one of which detailed all my memories.
I remember the fun facebook comment threads.
I remember the last night we slept (slept) together. All of her children were staying that weekend and I surrendered my bedroom for the next 3 days because she was so down, and I thought maybe they could boost her spirits in a way that I couldn't. I remember 3 days later when, unrelated, I made the dumbest decision I've ever made: I told her I could tell she wasn't happy here and I simply desired her happiness more than my own.
I remember, after, a week long conversation we had through messages, because there was a lot to say and I remember the sheer frustration with myself when I realized I couldn't save it. I couldn't have it back. I didn't give it up, I merely surrendered.
I remember how kind she has been through the entirety of it. She's been sweet and I'm nearly obliterated. If she'd chosen to be mean, I can't fathom how much worse I'd be.
It makes me feel so good to go back and read private writings, remembering how great life was for that short time, and then I crash.
I wake up and go to sleep with her on my mind every single day. I cannot sleep without my anxiety medication. The first and last thought on my mind is that she's not here.
I remember how she taught and coaxed me to look her in the eyes. She knew it was hard for me and let me know how much it meant to her that I'd look her in the eyes.
I remember stupid decisions on my part too.
Edit: I've sorely wanted to trust before and have met at least two people totally worthy of complete trust, even if I failed, or fail, to give it entirely. One of which is my brother Mike, and the other is my buddy down-under =). I gave that trust to the wrong person. I'm not saying she didn't deserve it or that she deliberately hurt me, I'm saying the aftereffects are just...crippling.
Sometime mid next year, I'm gonna try to see a shrink. I really am beginning to think that crazy isn't just a joke.