Around this exact time, it’s a month since everything officially went to hell with my love life. A month. Admittedly to my surprise, I feel no better: in fact, cumulitively over the past few weeks, it’s all been screaming inside my mind.
If you don’t know what’s been happening, it’d be good to read this post and if you have time, posts relating to that situation, but that’s the starting point.
Oh my god; it actually happened. They kissed, a month ago, and even though there had been little breaks in my heart in the week before that, that night was when it finally shattered.
It’s a month since I told someone that I wanted to die, pacing up and down my room and gasping like I was choking, unable to comprehend truly how fragile I felt. How everything – not just this – had built up, into an unbearable chasm that tore itself around the edges. That feeling of wanting to die has surfaced more, emphasised by the fact that I haven’t properly spoken about this in a while except to two people (who helped me).
I am horrified. Silent tears in Paris are invading my mind, an embrace I wish meant more, but could never again. All of the negativity over the last year has roared into a crescendo. It’s almost too much, so I’m dealing with it all now.
Last night, and the night before, I cried so hard that my heart felt like it was bursting. I don’t understand. I don’t understand why this had to happen to me, why he couldn’t be a shittier person – because that would make it easier. Why now, I’m being ignored and why I feel so fucking lonely.
When I think about it, I’m terrified of my mind. There’s a history of bad mental health in my family, and I’ve been known to get violent towards myself and I don’t want that to turn into anything serious. At the moment, I can barely write through a haze of worry and panic and half-numbness.
I am not okay. I’m not alright; I sobbed a few minutes ago until I didn’t feel like me any more. Remembering everything, drowning in memories that were half-lovely and half-shards of pain, because how am I supposed to pick myself up? I’m wishing for something long gone and god, I want these awful attention-seeking tears to stop.
My hands clenched into fists, trying to reconcile with myself that this wasn’t even a noteworthy or serious thing. That really, being alone where I could let tears slide down my face was preferrable to anyone seeing me that way.
The heart of the matter is that I want the people that are involved with this situation to care, but at the same time, I want them to forget about me so that they can find happiness. I want them to know I’m sad, but i don’t because they don’t deserve to and I’m just one person. S and Pansy are wonderful people, and it’s just me here bitter and so miserable that I want to tear out my hair.
How did it come to this? When I thought I would be okay, in the days after, I envisioned me in a month’s time finding it easy to smile. I knew that it would take time, but I didn’t expect me to still be crying now.
What burns is that he’s moved on and I haven’t. I can’t. I still have feelings, stupid illogical feelings, and it hurts when my friends tell me he’s nothing but a dick because he isn’t. He has always told me the truth, and I’m not deluded into thinking like I did with Ash because I know the signs of that.
I’m not naive about THIS. I know exactly what messaging him and receiving no reply does to me; I know what it’s like when I think of them together, because they’re travelling with each other this weekend. When I realised that, I knew that my mind would invent scenarios of them being happier that I could ever be, and that started the cycle of me remembering I’d been replaced with a girl who’s a brilliant person.
The laughter. The good memories. They’ll have it, and I had it and I don’t any more. That simple reality is choking me, because I miss him and I miss it and I miss my easy smiles. Simple, solitary things remind me of it all: a certain phrase, someone talking a little like him, anything: it sets me off into a spiral of sadness that I can’t stop.
At school, I pretend to be at least semi-fine. Otherwise, I’ll break down, and never be able to get up again. My work’s okay, but I can’t pretend to be great any more. Not when I feel like the people that matter don’t care, when deep down, I know they do. It’s just everything in my mind telling me that when I cry, people are only pretending to help. That if I stop, nobody will remember.
I don’t blame myself for this, but I still hate myself. My clinginess, the fact that I’ve completely neglected my friends; I’ve shut myself off. It’s high time I realised that it’s over, get the hell over it, and stop my heart from feeling so incredibly void of love.
Why did I have to get cheated on? Why am I left behind; why do I still want to disappear? Only for a second – not permanently – but it’s still there. It’s not healthy and I want to get help. In fact, that’s something I will definitely do, because at the moment I need it.
I can’t be expected to let go right now. I’m too utterly screwed over from everything, and I almost don’t want to lose feelings for him yet because I’d be forcing it, and that would be worse. It’s important that I give myself time, that I ldon’t make myself do anything, because time heals all wounds.
I wish I could tell you that I’ll be happy soon, but I won’t. I’m just going to hold on and I know you’ll be here, as you have been for everything.
I’m sick of it. Sick of feeling broken, sick of being broken, and sick of feeling like everything I say is so melodramatic and over-the-top. Without me there, without even the thought of me, they’ll forget and move on and that’s good. I don’t want to taint anything, because at the root of it, I just want them to live and smile and love. If I’m just a speck on the indefinable horizon for them, it’s just life, and it will be okay.
There’s no conclusion to this. No “don’t worry about me” because as much as I believe you shouldn’t, I couldn’t change your mind if you are. No “this is what I’m going to do”, because right now I don’t care; maybe soon I can figure it out but all I want to do is cry.
No “I’ll find someone else” because I don’t want to. I can’t move on at the flick of a switch, and I’ve suppressed so many emotions over the last few months that they’re all going to come back and overload me.
I’m just going to be, and not pretend I’m doing good. I’m not – not yet, though I know I will be. Showing that to you will help me, in the end.
Love from Elm 🙂