Let's hear it one more time for my broken heart! *claps*
Current Mood: 
Crushed
Current Music: sad
"The answer never changes."
"We women do not forget you, so soon as you forget us ... this is our fate, rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home - quiet, confined. and our feelings prey upon us...You have always a profession, pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and continual occupation and change soon weaken impressions." -Persuasion
So, about that last post. It was... a blip, but we recovered. We actually weren't over yet.
Now we are.
So... another nine or ten days was all it took.
But I actually didn't log in here with the intention of reliving all of this again, because as I'm sure you can imagine, I've been doing that for the past day and a half.
Recap: night before last I was sleeping at Mike's, as per usual, and Sarah came over. She flipped out and went psycho bitch, shoved him across the room, called me a whore/skank/slut, and Mike seemed at first to be on my side, what with him saying, "She's a crazy bitch," and she needs to grow up.
He told her to leave, and then said--to piss her off-- "We're gonna go make another baby," which obviously pissed her off, and that's when she shoved him across the room. Then when she left--laying on the horn at 3 am because Mike told her she better not wake up his roommate's kid-- she proceeded to call like 38 times probably to ensure that we weren't making another baby.
During the phone calls, I lost the upper hand.
But then during the last call she obviously slipped up in her wording and said he didn't have a "real job" and really set him off. He turned off his phone and we went to bed without having sex of any kind. The mood was kind of killed.
The next morning I woke up next to him and he says, "I hate being a guy."
Thinking he was referring to the way Sarah has control over Kloe just because she's the mother, I said, "I would, too."
"Why?" he asked.
Feeling a little confused, and that I thought we were on the same page, I replied delicately, "Because you don't have as much control over things you should have more control of."
And then he says that he doesn't have control of "him," referring to his penis.
So it wasn't a deep conversation thing, it was more of a, "I just woke up and I have a boner; Sam, want to take care of this for me?" kind of thing.
So, even though I had experienced grief and crying the night before over the loss I knew was bound to be coming my way, I took care of it for him.
And then I had to leave, because he had to get ready and go about his day.
Before we left his room he hugged me and kissed me goodbye, asking me if I wanted him to call me later.
"Yes," I said.
"You gonna text me all day and then you want me to call you later?" he asks teasingly, 'cause some days I don't text him all day and he gives me crap about it.
"Yes," I said, walking over and wrapping my arms around his neck.
Because I love him, and I would do anything for him. I've already sacrificed my pride, my dignity, my reputation, and anything else that mattered. I traded it all away for him. Even if he won't talk to me tomorrow, I will happily spend tonight in his arms.
So anyway, then he went to the bathroom and let me let myself out, saying, "Bye."
It didn't seem heart-wrenching or dramatic enough to be a real goodbye. I believed him when he said he would call me later, and I figured I would go over again that night for what might be our last night together during this reunion.
But he never called. Technically, he would've texted, but he didn't do that either. I texted him all day yesterday, like he said, and he responded to my "How's your day going?" comment the second time I sent it by saying, "Gay."
I asked if he got to see Kloe. "For a lil bit" was his answer.
I had to drag those out of him, and I didn't get any other ones.
I kept texting until like 11:30, but he wouldn't talk to me.
It's funny how she's a crazy bitch one day, and the next day they're naturally back together. It's like fucking Sid and Nancy.
Whatever.
Anyway, none of this is what I was going to say.
What I was going to say is this:
You know what my problem is? I live in the past. Literally, I create memories and then I live off them. I look back. I do not even attempt for the most part to move forward and away from the source of my heartbreak. Instead, I try to move back to it.
On tv and in any given normal person's life, if their boyfriend breaks up with them they might retreat into their room with ice cream, sad movies and tissues for a day or two, but once the initial heartbreak symptoms begin to fade, they begin to live again. They start hanging out with new guys--and they do not think, "Oh, I can't get attached to these guys, 'cause what if my ex-boyfriend wants me again? I have to remain untouched for him forever."
They DATE the new guy. They kiss him, they take him to the mall, they introduce him to their friends, they have sex with him, and they form a new relationship that REPLACES the old one.
They aren't killing time until the ex comes back, they are moving on.
My problem is, I don't move on. I don't even try to move on. I don't even really want to move on.
I am stubborn to the point of spiting myself.
Instead of trying to replace him and move on with my life, I keep all of his text messages so that every time I open my inbox, there he is. I continue to journal about him and write him as this hero who means well, he just doesn't want to hurt me. I look through pictures. I KEEP pictures. I keep his phone number. I keep my memories at the forefront of my mind and then I go back over them every spare moment that I have by myself to reflect.
I don't move on.
So of course I stay sad.
And this doesn't really make sense, does it? On the surface it seems absurd. Why would you want to stay sad?
But it does make sense, to my mind at least. It's an excuse. I want to save myself for him. I don't want anything serious, because I want to wait for him and be around when he comes back.
Which is both extraordinarily stupid and excruciatingly painful, so it still seems a foolish thing to do, but... that's it.
Crushed
Current Music: sad
"The answer never changes."
"We women do not forget you, so soon as you forget us ... this is our fate, rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home - quiet, confined. and our feelings prey upon us...You have always a profession, pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and continual occupation and change soon weaken impressions." -Persuasion
So, about that last post. It was... a blip, but we recovered. We actually weren't over yet.
Now we are.
So... another nine or ten days was all it took.
But I actually didn't log in here with the intention of reliving all of this again, because as I'm sure you can imagine, I've been doing that for the past day and a half.
Recap: night before last I was sleeping at Mike's, as per usual, and Sarah came over. She flipped out and went psycho bitch, shoved him across the room, called me a whore/skank/slut, and Mike seemed at first to be on my side, what with him saying, "She's a crazy bitch," and she needs to grow up.
He told her to leave, and then said--to piss her off-- "We're gonna go make another baby," which obviously pissed her off, and that's when she shoved him across the room. Then when she left--laying on the horn at 3 am because Mike told her she better not wake up his roommate's kid-- she proceeded to call like 38 times probably to ensure that we weren't making another baby.
During the phone calls, I lost the upper hand.
But then during the last call she obviously slipped up in her wording and said he didn't have a "real job" and really set him off. He turned off his phone and we went to bed without having sex of any kind. The mood was kind of killed.
The next morning I woke up next to him and he says, "I hate being a guy."
Thinking he was referring to the way Sarah has control over Kloe just because she's the mother, I said, "I would, too."
"Why?" he asked.
Feeling a little confused, and that I thought we were on the same page, I replied delicately, "Because you don't have as much control over things you should have more control of."
And then he says that he doesn't have control of "him," referring to his penis.
So it wasn't a deep conversation thing, it was more of a, "I just woke up and I have a boner; Sam, want to take care of this for me?" kind of thing.
So, even though I had experienced grief and crying the night before over the loss I knew was bound to be coming my way, I took care of it for him.
And then I had to leave, because he had to get ready and go about his day.
Before we left his room he hugged me and kissed me goodbye, asking me if I wanted him to call me later.
"Yes," I said.
"You gonna text me all day and then you want me to call you later?" he asks teasingly, 'cause some days I don't text him all day and he gives me crap about it.
"Yes," I said, walking over and wrapping my arms around his neck.
Because I love him, and I would do anything for him. I've already sacrificed my pride, my dignity, my reputation, and anything else that mattered. I traded it all away for him. Even if he won't talk to me tomorrow, I will happily spend tonight in his arms.
So anyway, then he went to the bathroom and let me let myself out, saying, "Bye."
It didn't seem heart-wrenching or dramatic enough to be a real goodbye. I believed him when he said he would call me later, and I figured I would go over again that night for what might be our last night together during this reunion.
But he never called. Technically, he would've texted, but he didn't do that either. I texted him all day yesterday, like he said, and he responded to my "How's your day going?" comment the second time I sent it by saying, "Gay."
I asked if he got to see Kloe. "For a lil bit" was his answer.
I had to drag those out of him, and I didn't get any other ones.
I kept texting until like 11:30, but he wouldn't talk to me.
It's funny how she's a crazy bitch one day, and the next day they're naturally back together. It's like fucking Sid and Nancy.
Whatever.
Anyway, none of this is what I was going to say.
What I was going to say is this:
You know what my problem is? I live in the past. Literally, I create memories and then I live off them. I look back. I do not even attempt for the most part to move forward and away from the source of my heartbreak. Instead, I try to move back to it.
On tv and in any given normal person's life, if their boyfriend breaks up with them they might retreat into their room with ice cream, sad movies and tissues for a day or two, but once the initial heartbreak symptoms begin to fade, they begin to live again. They start hanging out with new guys--and they do not think, "Oh, I can't get attached to these guys, 'cause what if my ex-boyfriend wants me again? I have to remain untouched for him forever."
They DATE the new guy. They kiss him, they take him to the mall, they introduce him to their friends, they have sex with him, and they form a new relationship that REPLACES the old one.
They aren't killing time until the ex comes back, they are moving on.
My problem is, I don't move on. I don't even try to move on. I don't even really want to move on.
I am stubborn to the point of spiting myself.
Instead of trying to replace him and move on with my life, I keep all of his text messages so that every time I open my inbox, there he is. I continue to journal about him and write him as this hero who means well, he just doesn't want to hurt me. I look through pictures. I KEEP pictures. I keep his phone number. I keep my memories at the forefront of my mind and then I go back over them every spare moment that I have by myself to reflect.
I don't move on.
So of course I stay sad.
And this doesn't really make sense, does it? On the surface it seems absurd. Why would you want to stay sad?
But it does make sense, to my mind at least. It's an excuse. I want to save myself for him. I don't want anything serious, because I want to wait for him and be around when he comes back.
Which is both extraordinarily stupid and excruciatingly painful, so it still seems a foolish thing to do, but... that's it.