So yeah…I’ve only been back a couple of days, and I’m fucking miserable…
I have a head cold like none other, and I am restless as hell. I wish the next semester started a week from tomorrow instead of three weeks. I feel useless and unnecessary when I am here.
There is alot going on in my life and in my mind. Sometimes I think it may be too much, but what are you gonna do? People have alot of perceptions of me, and that’s a good thing that can also be a bad thing at the same time. I know that when I write here, I portray an image of myself that is pretty much what it is, but then we all have secrets, don’t we?
No, I haven’t killed anyone.
I talk alot about how I got the short end of the stick from all these women who have passed in and out of my life, sometimes I deserved it, sometimes I was indeed the innocent victim. The truth is that I am no angel, and sometimes, I do and say things that I really shouldn’t, even though I have the best intentions in mind. Maybe.
Yeah, I have broken a couple of hearts in my lifetime, and I’m not proud of it. I do live by ego, but my ego is only fuelled by my successes, not by hurting others. I have a concious, even though it seems like I supress it at times.
I have to admit something, and this isn’t nearly as much for you readers as it is for me…I fall in love pretty easily. If I am not living with my mind, I am living with my big bleeding heart.
I’ve been in love more than my fair share, and I have never lied about it, but I have been misguided, which always ends up hurting other people. Damn it.
Once upon a time, there was a girl who came out of nowhere. Kind of like what some people would call a strange and wonderful coincidence. And it was, believe me. I’m busy living, and she comes out of nowhere. We talk, kind of like most people do, but different. There is a distance, nothing that I would say was small, the reality is that it was a long distance.
I’m sure some of you can see where this is going…
After talking rather innocuously for some time, something happens that draws us closer together, and it all happened so fast. I knew I knew this girl, she touched me in a way that I could have never expected, and it was wonderful. In the days that followed, she was all I could think about. I talked to her so much, that the distance didn’t matter. None of it mattered except her, this girl, the one who enraptured me in a way that I felt I needed. This is what I wanted.
Then one night, as we were talking, I made an admission, I let my heart supercede my brain, and out it came…”I love you.” There was one difference, something even I couldn’t have expected…she felt the same way. Obviously, I felt I had hit the jackpot, and this, like an epiphany, spoke to me. This was the girl for me.
Soon enough, she came down to spend a long weekend with me. We hung out, had a blast, and then spent our last day together making love the entire day, literally. It was awesome, and it made me happy.
It wasn’t long though before the tides started to change. Pressures brought upon me by outside forces began to take its toll, and not in a good way. I was under stress, and whenever this happens, well, I become a bastard. The girl, well, she only wanted to know what was going on in my life, and I simply began to cut her off, and the worst part was…I didn’t care.
She began to piss me off by asking me, questioning me about things in our relationship. I was pissed, not because she was concerned about our relationship, but because in my mind, all I could be worried about was all the bad shit in front of me. I kept thinking, “Goddamn, she’s worried about us, and I have the whole world about to collapse on me, I mean what the fuck?”
It was at this point that I accused her of being selfish, and in reality I was the one being selfish. See, the biggest problem with some long distance relationships is that from time to time, you lose track of the actual maintanance of the relationship because you don’t see anything wrong, since you don’t actually see anything. This was my problem. I shut her out, and I didn’t even think it was wrong.
This went on for a while, and instead of loving this wonderful girl, who didn’t really do anything but want to be there for me, I simply began to resent her. I resented her nagging, I resented her “selfishness”, but more than anything, I resented the fact that she couldn’t see what was going on in my world, but then how could she if I NEVER TOLD HER WHAT WAS GOING ON???
Then another girl entered my life, and in yet a different way. When we talked, there wasn’t the weight of a relationship there. We could laugh and joke, and relate to each other in a way that I guess was more comfortable for me, because there was no implications of intimacy. I had a friend for the sake of being a friend, and it was refreshing.
I found that I was still neglecting my girlfriend, I wasn’t being fair. It seemed that we argued more than anything, and I realized that each and everytime I would walk around and see couples together, walking hand in hand, smiling. I wanted that, and I wasn’t getting it. Could it be that I was becoming bitter?
I talked to her about it, realizing that maybe the answer to fixing things would be in being together. We had to be together. At least I thought that would be the remedy.
We ended spending a weekend together, and on the surface, it was good…real good, but it wasn’t the same. I felt like a gigantic mooch, because I had done nothing to make that weekend happen, she did EVERYTHING. I woke up one night as she lay sleeping next to me, and I felt like a user. I began to loathe myself, because I didn’t think I belonged there.
One night, she took me to a nice place to have a drink, we had just shared a hellish ordeal together, and I think the point was for both of us to unwind a bit. I got a call, and I lied about who it was. Not for any reason other than I felt that this was something that couldn’t be easily explained, and at this point, I didn’t even want to try. In retrospect, it was just me being even more selfish. I suppose the truth lies in the fact that admitting that I was just talking to a friend, in the way we were talking spoke against how she and I weren’t talking to each other. We weren’t being friends, we were being lovers, and what I knew is that I was giving a part of myself to someone else, and it didn’t matter that it was platonic, I had a confidant, and it wasn’t my girlfriend.
Once she took me back home, I began to hate the fact that I had a girlfriend, and shit wasn’t right, no matter how much I thought it was.
A week later, on a Sunday morning, I sat in my room, and I realized that I had to do something. I had to do what ever I could to stem the bloodloss this relationship was causing. I needed to step up, not just for her, but for me, because I knew who I was. The longer I let all of this fester, the worse a person I would become. So, I did what I thought was right after a long morning of thought…I called her, and I ended the relationship. I ended the relationship because I realized that I couldn’t keep on the way I was going. Many factors contributed to it, mainly the distance, and the realization that I wasn’t ready for that type of relationship, and the notion, the idea that maybe it was me that wasn’t being a friend as well as a lover. I was going through the motions because I believed that was what I was supposed to do.
I thought I knew the girl, I thought I had all that covered, but the truth was that I only knew what I wanted to know, and that wasn’t as much as I thought. We weren’t friends, not the way people should be, and we hadn’t spent the necessary time together in advance to really determine if we were doing the right thing. What I took from that, what I had to admit to myself was that it was my fault. I rushed into it, and I brought her along with me. I fed her head with pictures of happiness, and I wasn’t able to deliver.
I broke someone’s heart because of my own arrogance.
Did I even love her? Was I honest about that part? I think so. But I also think that I let my heart fool my brain into thinking that something like this was ultimately a good idea. Did I love the person, or the concept of what that person represented? These are the types of questions that never yield a positive answer, and I think are the types of questions left unanswered.
We shared alot, but ultimately it wasn’t enough in my mind. I walked away when I should have worked harder. We have to live by those choices we make. I’m just remiss about what those decisions do to others. She didn’t deserve anything of what happened to her, but it happened, and only I can really accept responsibility in the end…
So I’m no hero. I’m no romantic character in some tragic novel. I’m no one to look up to. I’m just me, warts and all. I try, but sometimes I just don’t try hard enough, and for that, I can only be sorry…