It is burdensome for me to fathom what I’m feeling. I’m just the type of person who has to know what’s going on. But I don’t. I cannot, for the life of me, sort out what went on with him, let alone what is going on with me.
Perhaps it was my pleasant feeling. It had been so long since someone had shown such real, admirable, interest in me that it caught me off guard. Every time he paid me a compliment, I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know whether to express my gratitude or make a sarcastic, albeit funny, remark. Every time he laid out a charming line, I didn’t know whether to call him out or play along. I didn’t know what I was setting myself up for, but it made me blissful. He made me blissful.
Despite all my inexperience in handling his mannerisms and style, he was still there. He still talked to me. He still wanted to see me. I could not figure out why, but I loved it. I loved that he wanted to see me for the sake of seeing me. I loved that he wanted to talk to me, for the sake of talking to me.
After years and years of being a ‘soloist’, I had forgotten what it was like to be liked. I had forgotten that feeling of content and euphoria of knowing that someone was keeping you in his mind and you were thinking of that someone too. That spark you feel when he flirts with you, or makes you feel special. It’s enslaving. It’s dangerous.
It could be that I was jumping to conclusions. I let myself be deceived by this craze. I’d like to say that I grew to believe in the goodness & realness of him just because he showed interest in me, but I’d be lying.
Things took an eye-opening turn for the worst and I had my heart broken, as usual. It’s kind of dumb of me to say this on a blog like this, where nobody really bothers to read my rants, but uh ..if you haven’t had your heart broken, then there is no way I can even begin to give a reason for how this feels. I can’t even identify with it myself.
He was insincere with me, got my hopes up for nothing, left me in doubt and made me question my worth. He made me cast doubt upon everything. Was it me? Was it him? Was it someone else? Every time I find myself alone, I can’t help but think. I can’t help but think of him. I NEED TO KNOW. Why the fuck do I need to know? For some reason I just can’t walk out on it.
There are so many things I want answers to, so many things I want to say to him, but my insecurities restrains me. What if he doesn’t feel the same misery that I do? What if it was just nothing to him? Why must I look like a dunce in front of him?
Somehow I just hope that he’s also putting up a front. That he’s just pretending to be okay. That deep down inside, he regrets it.
I wish I didn’t feel like this. I wish I hated him. But I don’t. I really, really don’t hate him. I can’t hate him.
I’ve been told that maybe I’m more into the idea of being with someone than actually being with HIM. Fine, that makes perfect sense, but how can I heal from all of this if he’s that SOMEONE attached to that idea?
All I can say is, you’re a gutless human being. Not because you couldn’t tell me you didn’t want to be with me with me for whatever reason. I’ll admit, if we were to turn this the other way around, I would have had a difficult time too. But you’re a coward because you were too afraid to actually throw yourself into this. You were too terrified to actually make an effort to see that we would have been good.
Because in all honesty, we would have been great.
- theblogjunkieee posted this