Though I am alone a lot, I have never really considered myself a lonely person. In fact, most of the time I like to be by myself because I know I won’t be doing something careless to hurt anyone. But lately, something has been creeping into my bones and has taken hold of me so I can’t just shake it off.
I am lonely.
It started when Mike forgot my birthday. I mean, it’s nothing new, but I really didn’t think he’d have an excuse to forget this year since he claimed he saved in on his calendar and whatnot. I know that he is merely my obsession and I am absolutely nothing to him except his savior, but when he didn’t Book me, Twit me, Text me, Email me, Letter me, or Call me on my birthday this year…after everything I’ve done for him the past few months, I have to be an asshole and admit that it really broke my heart. I waited all day for it, you know? I just knew this year he would actually remember me and wish me a happy birthday…say something to acknowledge the fact the fact that he’s glad that I was born. And of course, when the clock struck midnight and my birthday was officially over, I curled myself into a ball and cried. It hadn’t mattered at that moment that so many people had wished me well and I had a nice birthday dinner with my family that loves me…no…all that mattered was the fact that once again he had slighted me in one of the million insignificant ways he knows how to hurt me and I still had it in me somewhere to feel his cut and cry.
And I’ve been split open and bleeding every since then.
He’s still able to hurt me because I’m not with anyone that won’t hurt me. And yes, I know, that’s my fault…but still. He and Dooley will always be able to tie me into these knots and slit me with lemon laced razor blades because no one will make me love him more. I can’t sit here in good conscious and blame Mike for how he hurts me…at least not fully. It’s not his fault I fell in love with him. He can’t control my heart or actions, but he can control his…and as much as he protests my adoration, I’ve always felt like he also feeds off of it. He might not want my love, or me, but he’s damn sure glad that I’m there and that he’s got it. He won’t tell me he loves me, but he won’t fully declare that he doesn’t. He might go away for a bit but he never stays away. It’s as if he’s tied to me as much as I am to him but he either doesn’t see it or want to admit it. That’s what keeps me in love with him and he knows that. And that’s what makes him an asshole.
So he has been with me lately. His ghost, that is. And as usual, when his ghost comes, Dooley’s follows. I sit and think of both of them and wonder why everything is always so wrong and complicated and my mind churns and churns until it gets to where I can’t breathe…I only ache…and my only release is to pull away from the world and cry where no one can see me…because everyone that knows me knows that I shouldn’t be crying over them. The sad part is that people only know the bad things because I only gripe about the bad things. Then don’t know about all the good things Mike and Dooley have done for me…and why those are the things that hold me to them. I wish people knew the sides of them that they give to me because then they would see it. They would feel all the love mixed in with the confusion of it…and all I have said and gone through would be vindicated.
As it is, that is so not the case.
What. Ever.
I woke up this morning reaching out for someone that’s not there. I don’t know if I had been dreaming of someone or what, but there was a name on the tip of my tongue that I don’t remember and something solid under my hand before I fumbled into alertness. I blinked and stared at the empty side of my bed. For a moment I wished I really was the slut that most guys seem to think that I am so that someone…anyone would be there in that spot. I thought that waking up with a regret would far outweigh waking up alone. Why not lie and pretend and bullshit some dumbass into thinking I gave in to them…that I am in love with them? Make them love me so I can use them up? Why not play the game that insists on trying to play me?
Yeah, for a minute there, I was a real right bitch this morning. But I sat up, and looked around me, cursing myself out for thinking that way. Me and my stupid principles. I stared at my reflection and confessed that I’m not that girl…can never really be that girl. I’ve tried and failed several times, because when it comes down to it, I could never do to men what they do to me. I don’t want to be the one that fucks up a good guy and ruins any girl’s chance after. I don’t want to populate the world with another scared cynic like me.
I won’t be like this for long. I made a promise on Valentine's and I intend to stick to it. This is just a slight derailment.
Loneliness like this is only fancy. A broken heart last forever. No one can fix it or take it back or change it. Once it’s done, it’s done, and everyone else will only get pieces of the greatness that once existed before the breaker came to town.
I don’t know much…but that…I definitely know.
I am lonely.
It started when Mike forgot my birthday. I mean, it’s nothing new, but I really didn’t think he’d have an excuse to forget this year since he claimed he saved in on his calendar and whatnot. I know that he is merely my obsession and I am absolutely nothing to him except his savior, but when he didn’t Book me, Twit me, Text me, Email me, Letter me, or Call me on my birthday this year…after everything I’ve done for him the past few months, I have to be an asshole and admit that it really broke my heart. I waited all day for it, you know? I just knew this year he would actually remember me and wish me a happy birthday…say something to acknowledge the fact the fact that he’s glad that I was born. And of course, when the clock struck midnight and my birthday was officially over, I curled myself into a ball and cried. It hadn’t mattered at that moment that so many people had wished me well and I had a nice birthday dinner with my family that loves me…no…all that mattered was the fact that once again he had slighted me in one of the million insignificant ways he knows how to hurt me and I still had it in me somewhere to feel his cut and cry.
And I’ve been split open and bleeding every since then.
He’s still able to hurt me because I’m not with anyone that won’t hurt me. And yes, I know, that’s my fault…but still. He and Dooley will always be able to tie me into these knots and slit me with lemon laced razor blades because no one will make me love him more. I can’t sit here in good conscious and blame Mike for how he hurts me…at least not fully. It’s not his fault I fell in love with him. He can’t control my heart or actions, but he can control his…and as much as he protests my adoration, I’ve always felt like he also feeds off of it. He might not want my love, or me, but he’s damn sure glad that I’m there and that he’s got it. He won’t tell me he loves me, but he won’t fully declare that he doesn’t. He might go away for a bit but he never stays away. It’s as if he’s tied to me as much as I am to him but he either doesn’t see it or want to admit it. That’s what keeps me in love with him and he knows that. And that’s what makes him an asshole.
So he has been with me lately. His ghost, that is. And as usual, when his ghost comes, Dooley’s follows. I sit and think of both of them and wonder why everything is always so wrong and complicated and my mind churns and churns until it gets to where I can’t breathe…I only ache…and my only release is to pull away from the world and cry where no one can see me…because everyone that knows me knows that I shouldn’t be crying over them. The sad part is that people only know the bad things because I only gripe about the bad things. Then don’t know about all the good things Mike and Dooley have done for me…and why those are the things that hold me to them. I wish people knew the sides of them that they give to me because then they would see it. They would feel all the love mixed in with the confusion of it…and all I have said and gone through would be vindicated.
As it is, that is so not the case.
What. Ever.
I woke up this morning reaching out for someone that’s not there. I don’t know if I had been dreaming of someone or what, but there was a name on the tip of my tongue that I don’t remember and something solid under my hand before I fumbled into alertness. I blinked and stared at the empty side of my bed. For a moment I wished I really was the slut that most guys seem to think that I am so that someone…anyone would be there in that spot. I thought that waking up with a regret would far outweigh waking up alone. Why not lie and pretend and bullshit some dumbass into thinking I gave in to them…that I am in love with them? Make them love me so I can use them up? Why not play the game that insists on trying to play me?
Yeah, for a minute there, I was a real right bitch this morning. But I sat up, and looked around me, cursing myself out for thinking that way. Me and my stupid principles. I stared at my reflection and confessed that I’m not that girl…can never really be that girl. I’ve tried and failed several times, because when it comes down to it, I could never do to men what they do to me. I don’t want to be the one that fucks up a good guy and ruins any girl’s chance after. I don’t want to populate the world with another scared cynic like me.
I won’t be like this for long. I made a promise on Valentine's and I intend to stick to it. This is just a slight derailment.
Loneliness like this is only fancy. A broken heart last forever. No one can fix it or take it back or change it. Once it’s done, it’s done, and everyone else will only get pieces of the greatness that once existed before the breaker came to town.
I don’t know much…but that…I definitely know.
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