For two days I was a complete emotional wreck. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I felt numb and I cried so much my eyes are still aching.
He told me he wrote the note so that I would still love him, but I would hate him a bit and he was hoping that that would help me get over him.
He’s such a fucking dumbass sometimes.
It was actually the most awful letter I’ve ever received and it hurt me so much. Maybe there were only little things in there that could hurt, but I love him so much, they felt like gunshots in my side.
Keep in mind, when we fight, it’s not like yelling and screaming. It’s awkward pauses, hesitant touches and long silences.
I’ve been pulling away recently, not even because I wanted to. School’s starting soon and my major and minor are both extremely difficult programs with lots of reading material. I have to get some reading done before school.
And I really love him, but he’s in an extremely easy program. He has to read maybe one book out of all his courses a semester. The rest is just practical stuff that really isn’t difficult.
He’s really not been understanding about me not being able to hang out. I’ve been telling him if he really wants to see me, he can do whatever he likes on my laptop while I read, but I don’t have time for legitimate conversations and hanging out.
He came over the other day and told me that he thought our friendship was ending. He said he wanted to end it properly and gave me a note. I literally felt the bottom drop out of my stomach.
The note was… really awful. I can’t even explain it.
It’s stupid really. Because I’ve always known what love is, even when I was too young to walk−because I’ve always loved my mother and my little brother. Love is that encompassing feeling that is indescribable, a little like what the movies say, but not really. It’s not constricted to romance, and never has been−it’s that special feeling beyond comprehension, because if we understood it, it wouldn’t be love. And so, I’ve always been secure in that: knowing how much I love my family, and how much they love me back. It kept me happy in both dark times and good ones.
But even with all that, it was still a surprise to me when I found out he was dating the the guy I had hated since before I could remember. I felt something break, like I had lost a race I didn’t know I was running, like I had drowned when I hadn’t been near water.
He was going out with a guy who hated me almost as much as he hated herself. He convinced him of many things, none of which were good or true. He forgave me for whatever treacherous things he had said about me, and so we continue living, side by side. But I know that he would choose his love over mine, and that stings more than you can ever imagine.
And it was then that I wondered when I began to love him so much, so much that it hurt when I thought he didn’t love me.
But then I got over it. It was pretty simple, even though it was hell at the time−I love him and I’ll stay by his side as long as I can endure him not being by mine. And perhaps, one day he will be. But not while he is wandering this earth, his shadow casting a dark gloom over my happiness.
But I won’t be bitter, not ever, because bitterness is what he is, and I swear that I won’t ever be like him. That twisted, that sad, that drowning in despair; if there ever was a case to learn by example, he’s one. By now, he’s been so used to the despair, he welcomes it, and shies at happiness. He can’t see it, can’t imagine it.
And so, I can’t be angry. I do as I was taught to do; I pity him and I pray for him. It doesn’t matter that whenever I see him, it feels like he’s ripping the life from me. It doesn’t matter that he either can’t see or refuses to see what pain he causes me.
I think, if at the end of this, he chooses him over me, for whom it would be a lie to say suffered less than me, I know that I’d surely be far sadder than I can ever imagine, even with what I’ve already dealt with. But the way I feel now, I know I could never love anyone but him, either.
I am told a way that people fall out of love is that their love is unreturned: unrequited love stings and hisses, and is overall, quite unpleasant−but that is what I’m told. They can’t take it, so they leave. It hurts them deeply and they’re in so much pain, it’s easier to find another and make a new love.
But I haven’t experienced that myself; because I know in my heart that he loves me. It’ll be a long time before he says it, if he ever will, but it’s not something I need words to know. Because it shows when we laugh together, when we have a great time doing nothing, when we can sit together in silence and not need any words to talk, when he gets me out of trouble even though I deserve the punishment. When he cried when I almost drowned.
And so, because he loves me, I can never stop loving him, because love is not about possession. I don’t have to have him by my side to confirm that he loves me, or for me to continue loving him. Love is not “out of sight, out of mind.”
True love is a devotion that never dies, never can die, never will die. It causes evil, it causes good, and it causes pain. I know this in my heart and in my mind, if, evidently, not in my soul, which is why I’ll never be bitter, or angry, or vindictive if he does leave me, someday, for him or for anyone else. Only aching sadness would fill me, which is an emotion completely removed from every other.
Yet it’s because of that possession that love causes, that he is so bent on keeping him, and so because of his love, he must stay by him, and care for him, and be by his side, even in the darkest depths of hell. He would endure it for the feelings they once shared, even if he has long hurried it away. And then I weep, and I curse, and I try desperately not to make wishes like, “I wish he would vanish,” because then I would be so much like him, so much like what I strive not to be.
But then it all suddenly becomes forgiven, only because I love him. Or not forgiven; perhaps it’s part of the reasons for why he is the wonderful being that he is. He is devoted to the love he had for him; that loyalty was much earned to him and even though he has twisted it, he still loves him. And maybe it’s one of the reasons why I can’t let go of him, because it is the most saddening, devoted type of loyalty that I think I will ever see. And so this love for him can never stop; it is with me when I breathe, when I walk, and when I feel the breeze pass by me, ruffling my hair, and I turn to look up, hoping that it’s him. I live it, at every moment of my waking day and at every moment of my resting night And if he leaves me, I’ll weep, and I’ll mourn, and I’ll hope that he’ll come back, more desperately than I’ve ever hoped for anything in my life.
But I’ll never stop loving him. I could never go and find another love; maybe that’s just my immature self speaking, my twenty year old self that can’t bear to think of having ‘another true love’, but it’s something I believe in with all my heart that loves him, which is all of it. The very thought is inconceivable; it could not come into existence when my whole world revolves solely around him, and even if he was gone from me, I never could forget−only aimlessly spin off into space, my center of balance lost forever until I crash into the walls of the universe.
And then people ask me why I can’t let go, why I’m in love with him, of all the ones I could love. And then I wonder to myself why I love him so deeply, so strongly. That painful, trapping emotion, the place where I can’t get out of, and have no wish to do so. He has no manners, he’s clumsy and messy and he was definitely not the type of man I thought I would love.
I still wonder−why do I love him? This love, the driving reason for this endless need for me to stay by his side, to be the one who makes him happy, who supports him, even if it makes me sad, even if he makes me cry.
When he looks at me in that way, that sad hopeless was; “I’m sorry, I can’t stay by your side, I have a loyalty to somebody else…”
And then it seems as if my world grows dim, the curtains shadowing me away from the light. But if he can’t stay by my side, then I’ll stay by his.
Because I love him, and it seems that it’s always been so, even though I know it hasn’t; he is more important to me than anything else in the world, that I’d go to hell alone for all eternity, if only for the blessed reason of him being happy.
But I don’t love him for the way he he holds my hand in the dark, or falls asleep holding me, or for when he drowned a little bird because we knew it wouldn’t survive and cried for a month afterwards, or all the hundreds of people who hate his kind and him alike, or how he couldn’t hurt that little dog even though it was his last chance to win.
And I don’t love him for the way he hides his feelings so badly, or for the way that he pampers my dogs when no one but me is looking, or for the way he tolerates them rather than throwing them out the window.
And I don’t love him for the way he can’t make up his mind between him and I because he’s so devoted and loyal, or the way he tries to hide that he really, really wants to see his father sometimes, or the way he can’t help but be so justice-driven even when no justice has ever been given to him.
Because when you’ve been sitting in a dark room for thousands upon thousands of years, and one random day, someone draws open the curtains that you didn’t know were there, and you feel the sun’s light for the first time, caressing your skin and filling up your eyes and drowning your mind and burning your soul, you don’t need to answer when someone asks those inevitable questions.
Why do you love the sun?
And will you ever stop?
I’m not really sure actually. A lot has happened since my last post. I’ll update soon. Come off anon, I love having private conversations with people :)
More posts will follow.
that I know someone that is following me, and I forgot that I know them. And I sent them a really, really, REALLY personal ask. And I’m hyperventilating.
Oh. My. God.
She’s really nice and cute and chipper. She’s just so… normal. But I know that she had a really bad mental break down only four years ago. He’s told me all about it and how traumatizing it was for him. He’s said she’s never been the same since.
I know he really, really loves her, so I’m doing this for him. Not that I find spending time with her boring or anything. I just don’t really know her well enough, but I think they should have some time alone before the leaves to go study on the other side of the world. I think maybe he’ll tell her things there that he wouldn’t say in the city.
The country changes people. It calms them. It makes them feel more at ease.
My skin was greasy, my hair was a mess and I was so tired, I fell half asleep on the metro. After getting out, this really cute guy came up to me and said that I was the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day. He introduced himself and we had a small conversation, mostly because he spoke french and i was too embarrassed about my french accent to talk too much to him.
It’s strange though, isn’t it? That when I felt at my worst someone thought I was beautiful. I was just reminded of this because almost the exact same thing happened to me yesterday.
I’ve never thought of myself as pretty. Cute, yes, but not pretty. But sometimes these guys seem to think I’m beautiful when in reality I’m about a 6 and they’re a 9.
I just couldn’t. We’re way too different and it’s hard to find common ground. Like… he watches a lot of movies and shows. I rarely watch tv, and only have about 2 shows I’m following right now. I read a lot of books. He rarely reads any books, except for a very few books in Russian (his first language). We don’t have the same taste in music or even like the same kind of movie genres. We don’t see the world the same way politically. I love relaxing in the country. He loves mountain climbing and biking and camping, etc. He’s into getting wasted as often as he can with as many people as he can. I like getting drunk with only one or two friends at a time. He barely studies in school, yet he does amazingly. I study like crazy and do well.
I know these things may seem small, but they really are the only things we can think of talking about and the fact that we can’t find any common ground is really hard. I know he still likes me, but I also know it wouldn’t have lasted long if we’d tried to have a serious relationship.
Maybe I’m young and maybe there have been others. Maybe this love is irrational. But I don’t get easily attached to people. If anything, I usually push them away and don’t let them in.
But you… You are the face I want to wake up to everyday. You are the last thing I want to see when I close my eyes.
Impossible.
I love getting almost close enough to kiss you. I don’t, of course. But I breathe in your breath, and it comforts me.
When you’re awake, you don’t like being close enough to do that because you’re self-conscious of your morning breath. I’ve told you a thousand times that I don’t mind it, I even like it, but you’re still embarrassed.
But that’s okay. It makes me treasure those fleeting moments in the morning even more.
I’ve told you this turns me on beyond belief, no matter who does it. I want to fuck whoever does it. You still do it. I already have enough difficulty trying not to confess my feelings to you.
Why?
You came over almost right away. You said you wanted to drink tonight. Maybe two or three bottles of wine. I said that sounded like fun.
But, you had to wait to call your dad at 6, and you had a few other things to do, like check your bank balance and have a shower. You wanted me to come over, but I was tired and wanted to relax. No matter how hard I try, I can never relax at someone else’s house. Not completely. I told you to come back in an hour when you had finished doing everything.
You came back at ten. I’ve been trying to not expect anything. I’m able to at least act like I don’t. I was still a little hurt that you didn’t try to come over sooner. You know I can’t stay up late like we used to. I have a job, I have responsibilities. I can’t just have fun whenever I feel like it. I need to go to bed at a decent hour.
You went on reddit and tumblr for an hour. You told me before that when you’re at my house, I demand your attention. I don’t want to be like that. Now, when you’re doing something, I let you do it. I don’t interrupt, I just go and read my book. So that’s what we were doing until ten minutes to eleven. Then you closed the computer and said, “Well, we have to decide how much wine we want in ten minutes before the stores close.”
It was too late by then. Why don’t you know this by now? I told you I couldn’t, it was too late. Realistically, I have to be in bed by midnight if I want to get to work on time the next morning.
You were really sad about it. Then you asked me if we were going to watch any shows. I asked if you wanted to watch anything. You didn’t answer and just opened up the laptop again. You ignored me for ten minutes.
Finally, you said, “Well I guess I’ll go home then.” You always say this now. Do you want me to make you stay? I don’t want to pressure you into anything. In the end, it’s your decision.
I’m just… I’m learning how to not need you. Maybe that’s making you sad right now, but you’ll see. In the end, it will be for the best.
