2amfix.net

There are so many thoughts, emotions, and feelings whirling through my mind that I don’t even know where to begin. All I know is that the only way to obtain even a semblance of emotional release is by organizing it all and physically removing them from my system. So, here we go.

Fact: I’m truly okay with not being with David anymore.

Sure, I’ll have those nostalgic moments where I smile to myself like some psychotic woman off her meds while reminiscing, but who doesn’t? However shitty our relationship was at times, it was still the sweetest, most genuinely innocent courtship I’ve had the privilege to experience — from holding hands on the beach to being damned indecent on the dance floor — he did it all. And even though I spend countless hours mentally cursing him to the depths hell for taking advantage of my “genuine” desire to be his, I thank him for everything. I thank him for genuinely liking me. I thank him for genuinely thinking about my well-being. I thank him for all the memories he’s given me. I thank him for giving me the opportunity to experience all the romantic cliches girls long for. I thank him for all the genuine feelings he gave me. I thank him for respecting me. I thank him for doing what I didn’t have the balls to do. But most of all, I thank him for helping me realize that although he was a wonderful catch, he wasn’t what I wanted, needed, or genuinely liked. And finally, I thank him for putting in the effort to re-forge a platonic relationship with me.

After a year, I’m glad to have said that we tried, failed, and continue as friends. After a torturously slow, confusing, anxiety filled relationship filled with beautiful memories, I’m that much more of a person. After liking, hurting, getting angry, and finding peace, I’m that much wiser and glad for the experience.

D***d C****n S**g, you will definitely go down as my favorite bastard of all time.

Thank You.

Yet however fantastic I feel at the moment, I can’t help but fear for myself. I fear for the speed, grace, and nonchalance in which I arrived at these revelations. I fear that I actually have become as heartless as people think me to be. I fear that I’ve lost the ability to truly put my heart and soul into things. I fear that I’ve lost the genuine ability to like, love, and cherish with my heart, and not just my mind.

Especially in light of my last relationship; he was supposed to be different. My whole world shook when he looked at me. My mind went blank from pure joy when he hugged me. My brain ceased to function the moment he smiled at me. I could’ve lost everything I owned in a fire and still been insanely happy if he was the one comforting me. In short, my eyes were for him, and him alone. Yet here I am today, 4 days after we broke up, happy as ever and barely able to appreciate the pain in loss.

Truthfully, my heart and mind have never spent more than a week lingering on any broken relationship. I’ve never hurt or despaired over any relationship to the point where my heart hurt enough to cry. I mean, I’ve cried — God knows I’ve cried — but always in the name of hurt pride, the fear of loneliness, a lost relationship … never a broken heart. Hell, I’ve yet to experience a broken heart since I’ve never opened up my heart enough to truly love anyone. Sure, at the time I believed the feelings I had were nothing but the purest feelings of like and love, but when the time came to separate it barely mattered.

Hence, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve either subconsciously never truly given my heart to anyone, or truly lost the ability to give my heart to anyone. Either way, it scares me. I, like every other stupid woman in this world, long to experience that powerful, moving love in which time and distance only serve to strengthen and tears and pain deepen. Hence, as a leading pessimist of the world, I fear my chance will slip through my fingers because of my heart’s callous indifference to the men that work for my heart.