To whomever cares to read this:
This shouldn’t hurt this much. There’s no reason it should. I made things up. I know that. I’ve known that all along. But for some reason I kept seeing more. I convinced myself there WAS more. And I care more than I’d like to admit. I care more about him and his feelings and how his day has gone than I will ever let on to anyone in this world.
The good that has come out of this pain, however, is that I’m almost positive I’m not *in* love with him.
Here’s the thing about him: he’s supposed to be the one to genuinely convince me that he is trust worthy–that it’s possible to trust a man and that trust not be mis-given. That he’ll be there. And maybe I’m not getting that. Maybe I never have from him. He doesn’t truly acknowledge who I am in his life. He never has and that hurts so fucking much–to the core. And I guess that makes me question if he even gives a shit or if I’m just a project that stumbled upon his once perfect life. I mean, let’s be honest, he was ready to let me slip through the cracks of his life not even 3 years ago. But I fought. Because the way I saw it, he had something great to offer not only to me but to everyone he met. And I wanted to selfishly stick around to see it happen. He was something special in my eyes. But now I feel used and forgotten and ignored. But maybe that’s just me.
I think I’m lonely. I think I miss the security of someone’s arms that I love and trust wrapped around me. But that’s the thing…I don’t trust any man on this planet. And I’m not gonna go into some long rant about how all men are evil, because they aren’t. I know that. I’m just wired to believe they are evil without my conscious consent because that’s all I’ve known; Men who leave; Men who take and don’t give anything in return; Men who beat me down; Men who use me for all I’m worth, plus some; Men who don’t stand up for me when I clearly need some support–the same men who promised they would do just that.
I need some fucking human connection. A real connection. Not just one created in a bar scene with whiskey coursing through my veins. And not just a friendship, much less a girlfriend. I miss that feeling of being desired and admired all at the same time, not just one or the other.
I think I’m quietly losing my mind.
And I don’t know how to deal with that. I’ve always been very loud about my insanity. It’s always been very dramatic. And this isn’t. I can’t tell if I’m just handling it well or if I’m numb. All I know is that it’s from this newly recognized distrust of all men.
I’m to the point of completely believing that I’m not worth loving anymore because I just may be too damaged; too broken. But that’s been a long time coming.