“I don’t think you understand how pathetic you made me feel.”
You need to know that you broke my heart. I don’t care if we’re still in love, if we’re still sharing a bed and a home and a life together. You still broke my heart.
I don’t think you realize quite how much you hurt me, and how it’s changed everything. I understand your need to move on, to forge ahead, to create a path forward – but I can’t. The good things you’ve done and said, the kindness and love, even the gifts you have bought me have all lost so much shine.
I’m sitting here typing this on a laptop you gave me, and I still wonder how much of last year was bullshit. How could it not be, because someone who loved me would not hurt me this much, would not have done this.
You need to understand that when I am in tears, or in one of my rages, and I demand that you “fix it”, I am not ordering. I am begging. If you can make me happy, if you want to see me happy all the time, then fix this, because I don’t know who else can.
I thought you were smart. The basis of my attraction to you was your intellect. But if you were too obtuse to notice something so obvious, something all my friends and your friends could – well. How smart are you, really? Or was it a forced stupidity, because once again you were choosing somebody else?
How else am I to feel, besides this way – like you don’t appreciate or respect me, don’t appreciate or respect our relationship.
I wonder if this is the beginning of the end, really – I fall in and out hard. I dive in, I’ve said this before. But I also dive out, step into the void with barely a second thought and no regard for the pain I will inevitably feel when it all sinks in. I wonder if I am unlearning you already, subconsciously tying my shoelaces and packing my bags. I hope not.
I wonder if it was all worth it. You say it wasn’t, of course it wasn’t you insist. But I need proof, proof you can’t give me because it is impossible to give.
“Was it good for you too?”
It’s hard to remember being happy right now, because this had to happen during one of my episodes. I remember thinking traitorously that I hadn’t been happy in a relationship since early 2010, which is of course nonsense. Little Lion Man made me deliriously happy for the first month or so, and you, you too, had many moments.
Our beginnings were terrible, stuttering like a bad motor, so much shyness and savagery and a studied attempt to look like we did not care. Somewhere along the way things changed, and I’m glad they did, glad we stuck with it. But lately I miss those days more and more – where it felt like I mattered to you more than anything else, where you wanted me to love you as desperately as I wanted you to love me. Where everything said and done was special. Before there was a lack of scarcity and therefore no premium.
But those days are over, and now, right now, I’m feeling hurt and upset and angry and massively screwed over. Some of these emotions are directed at you, some aren’t. But that is how I feel. And I don’t like it.
“Because that’s the thing about Scooby-Doo: The bad guys in every episode aren’t monsters, they’re liars. I can’t imagine how scandalized those critics who were relieved to have something that was mild enough to not excite their kids would’ve been if they’d stopped for a second and realized what was actually going on. The very first rule of Scooby-Doo, the single premise that sits at the heart of their adventures, is that the world is full of grown-ups who lie to kids, and that it’s up to those kids to figure out what those lies are and call them on it, even if there are other adults who believe those lies with every fiber of their being. And the way that you win isn’t through supernatural powers, or even through fighting. The way that you win is by doing the most dangerous thing that any person being lied to by someone in power can do: You think.”—
“A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.”—William Butler Yeats, A Man Young & Old: III. The Mermaid
This is really weird. I typed a pretty long post, tagged it, and I’m pretty sure I posted it, but now it is missing.
One is losing one’s memory, one feels.
But in essence. Blah blah blah whine, blah blah blah another crying fit, blah blah been a while since my last one but have now noticed some definite warning signs blah blah such as anxiety and loneliness blah blah. This one has probably percolated longer than the others (or perhaps I was less busy with work so more aware) but after a failed attempt at fishing for affection/compliments from Anon, I had a good cry so I think I am done for this time around.
(Yeah, I’m a little irritated that the first time in ages I write a proper post and it gets swallowed. Will be pretty funny if it turns up again in a bit.)