I should be happier about being home.

I should be happier in general.

But I’m not.

I know I said I was offline for a while, but I have some shit to get out. I can’t carry it around.

There’s all this concern about He’s happiness. About how he needs to move on with his life and that he has the right to be happy. I’m all for that. I’m on board. I have never once objected to that. I won’t.

Where’s the concern for my happiness? I deserve to be happy, too. I don’t deserve it any less than He does. This may come out wrong, but I’m going to say it the only way I know how. I don’t want to offer a disclaimer, but I’m sure I’ll apologize for it, because I don’t want to offend anyone or upset anyone, or anything like that.

I’m tired of being treated like I’m refusing to move on. I’m tired of being treated like I’m just a pathetic husk that refuses to stop clinging to the past. On one hand, yes, I see that it seems like I am doing that. But here’s a morsel of knowledge: I was being led on. I’m not sure it was intentional, and I don’t care. He has always known how I feel, and I, at this point, feel that my feelings were exploited, or at very least, taken advantage of. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. I don’t know. I don’t care. I shouldn’t have to feel the way I feel because He gave me false hope. I feel like a fool, and I am a fool. Because I allowed my feelings to get the better of me. Because I refused to believe that He was the type of person that he is.

Long story short, I deserve better than what I’ve got. I deserve to be able to move on with my life and be happy. But I refuse to do it the way He is. I will keep my opinions to myself at this point, because I am sure they are biased. But I also know He very, very well, and I know for a fact that I am not entirely mistaken.

I will say this: everyone is entitled to their opinion. You can all think what you want to think about me, and about the situation. The fact of the matter is, the only people who really, truly know anything about it are me and He. And I’ll lay it out for you all right here, right now. I spent four years with a truly remarkable man who made me happier than I ever imagined I could ever be. I was, and still am, painfully in love with him. We broke up. “Things didn’t work out.” Two weeks later, he moved on. Whether or not he still had feelings for me at that point is of no consequence. Because now he is dating the same girl he discarded me for. I have my objections, and I will keep them to myself. Because he has every right to move on and be happy.

All I ask is that everyone get the fuck off my back and let me be sad. Let me mourn the loss of my lover. Let me mourn the loss of my best friend. Let me mourn my losses, okay? Let me hurt. Let me be sad. Let my cry so hard that I can’t breathe. Let my try to get rid of this. A person can only shoulder so much. I am strong. I have always been a very strong person. But this is pain that I have never experienced. It is like nothing I have ever known. And I have to do it on my own. I don’t have anyone. So let me falter. Let me be flawed. Let me be weak every now and then, because I can’t be strong all the time. I can’t act like it’s okay when I’m not okay. I’m not okay. I am not okay. I am alone, and I have to carry him around all day. Let me not be able to deal with that sometimes. Just let me hurt. Let me let it hurt. I don’t ask much of anyone, ever. This is all I ask. Just let me be sad.

Time is a cruel mistress. And everyone works differently. It took He a very short amount of time, and that destroys me. But that’s him, and that’s okay. I can deal with that. I don’t want to, but I will. Me, I take longer. Me, I can’t look back at all that was bad in our relationship and let it alter how I feel toward him. Me, I can’t spend copious amounts of time with someone and forget about He. We all work differently. So let me be. Let me be destroyed, and miserable, and let me break down every now and then. I lost a part of me, okay, and I haven’t learned how to operate without it, yet. Sometimes it’s hard to love someone until the day they’re gone. I wasn’t a good girlfriend. I didn’t make He happy. And he has every right to not want to be with me. But that doesn’t mean that I have to just suck it up and move on. I’m trying my very best. He always used to tell me that trying wasn’t good enough. Sometimes it’s all I can do.

I think I’ve been pretty good about this thus far. I think I’ve been a trooper. I’ve had some horrible moments, but lessons have been learned. I am guilty of being jealous. I am guilty of being hurt. I am guilty of a lot of things, but I have done nothing intentionally hurtful toward anyone, and I think I deserve just a little bit of credit. I think I deserve some support. I think I deserve to be happy, too.

I deserve it, too.

I just want to let you know, whoever reads this, that I’m out.

I’m gone for a while. I’m disconnecting.

I woke up this morning and could barely see. I essentially have two black eyes, minus the black. And I couldn’t get any solid sleep last night because a) I kept crying and b) my head was pounding from crying. I’m really glad I a have a huge presentation today. Good timing.

My opinion doesn’t matter. What I think doesn’t matter. How I feel doesn’t matter.

But there is a huge mistake being made.

Thus, I am going to withdraw, and learn to deal with it. That’s all I can do at this point. That and hope to God that I can get through today without bawling.

This is the antithesis of cool.

Five months of mistakes, of agony, of mishaps, of learning. Five months of hard, painful work. For what?

I’m back to square one, kids, only this time I think it’s worse. And this is for realsies.

People say that a heart can’t break. They say that it’s just an organ, that it has nothing do to with the emotion of love. Someone, however, that has felt the unbearable ache, the wash of overwhelming agony between their breasts, that person would disagree. I disagree. A heart can break. And I know, all the same, what I have to do is pick up the pieces and move on. But all I can do is sit here, tears streaming, and look around at the aftermath. There’s so many pieces and so much blood. I don’t know if I have the energy or the strength to do this again. Again.

I mean this, and you can doubt it if you want. But some of the best lessons are the most difficult to learn:

I will never love again.

This odd mixture of emotions is getting the better of me, and sometimes it feels as though the only way to go on living with even the most minute type of normalcy is to completely ostracize myself. It’s like the only way I can do okay or be okay is to limit my interaction with the rest of the social world. Which is odd in itself, as I’m craving company. I’m stuck in a horrific conundrum, and I don’t want to play anymore.

I have so much to do, and I don’t feel like I have the time to do it. I have obligations and constraints, and there simply is not enough time in the day without my running myself completely ragged. Break cannot come soon enough. And even then, I have to try to get a lot of work done during the break as well. Huzzah.

Things have started to happen, also, that bother me. I’m not upset, I’m not mad, I’m just…irritated. I feel like I’m struggling to empty my already overflowing plate, and shit just keeps being shovelled onto it. Please, please, leave me alone! I’m not sure how much more I can handle. I feel like I’ve been doing okay lately, you know, being responsible and whatnot, and getting things taken care of, but that’s academically. Once academics and my life start raping me up the ass, I start to get a little flustered. And a little flustered can easily turn into a lot flustered.

I just want to go home. I want to be done with some of the shit I am in the middle of (fortunately, some of it will be out of the way before the week is up) and get on with it. I want to get on with it.

I found me again. It’s odd, because due to the situation, I’m not all that happy. But I am happy. I’m that girl who I used to be, but better. I’m bright. I laugh. I radiate. And it’s so much better than how I used to be. And my first thought when I realized this was that it’s too bad that He isn’t around to experience it, and isn’t interested anyway.

Because I’m the type of girl he’d fall in love with. All over again.

Mostly, I’m just checked out on the shit that doesn’t matter. The small stuff doesn’t even roll off, because I don’t let it touch me. I don’t have the time, energy or patience to freak the fuck out about things that are inconsequential or out of my control.

I’m better now. I wish the people I want and need to see that actually would.

I feel strange. It’s an odd mixture of emotions and I can’t seem to put my finger on one individually.

For some strange reason, the change in the weather makes the missing that much worse. It’s bothersome.

I’ve realized lately that I’m going through withdrawals. I knew it was going to happen, but it’s set it pretty violently lately. I miss watching movies. I don’t remember the last time I just cuddled up and watched one. And I want to. Badly. It’s one of the few things I really enjoy doing, and I can’t ever or don’t ever get to do it. It’s kind of breaking me down.

quarterlife was talking to me today about some problems she’s been having, and it make me consider some things that I was aware of but that hadn’t fully settled in realistically. Then they did and I felt like a douche.

I can’t wait to go home. There are so many people I want to see. Plus, maybe I’ll get to reclaim my house, and my couch, and watch a movie.

Oh, and a warning for some of you (I’m not going to name names): there will be hugs. Fierce ones.

I’m lonely.

I want to vomit violently to rid myself of the feeling lodged in my gut. It’s 20% hangover and 80% guilt.

I’m doing so well at not being a fucking prostitute, but I still make stupid choices, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of all this bullshit. I’m tired of drama, I’m tired of masking how shitty I feel all the time, I’m tired of having quasi-friends.

So, why don’t I do something about it, right? There’s only so much I can do. I can’t force people to like me. I can’t force myself to move on from something my heart won’t let go of. I can only fake it for so long before I have a complete meltdown. I think that’s when I start to make the stupid choices. And I’m not so sure it’s just because of the alcohol.

On the upside, I found a ride home for break. So that’s good.
Also, I feel like total shit. I can’t stop shaking. I wasn’t ready.

You make me scream.

On the inside.

I have so much that I just stuff down, because I know it’s old. It’s tired. It’s worn out, and no one wants to hear it anymore. But fuck it.

I STILL LOVE YOU. It’s not going away. You can fuck her all you want. She can make stupid comments on your Facebook. You can have a crush on her and want to date her. It doesn’t change the ferocity with which I love you. Period. I do everything I can to make it go away. I stuff it down. I ignore it. I stifle it the best I can.

Get out of me. Go away. I can’t do this anymore. And it’s your fucking fault.

I’m so tired. I’m. So. Tired.

Fuck this noise. I’m out.

Edit: this reads really, really rude and bitter. I can’t deny some bitterness, but I guarantee, text skews intent. Period. I don’t mean to be a bitch, or to be instigative or whatnot. I’m just expressing myself. And sometimes the interwebs are not the best medium. But I don’t have a lot of options. My apologies to anyone offended. Get at me and I will clarify.

In an up and down kind of way, I beginning to feel comfortable in my own skin.
I’m fairly certain that I think too much.
I miss He a lot lately, usually at night. And I do my damnedest to leave him alone. He doesn’t need me.

I’m stuck. I’m happy, but I’m not happy. It’s like being content because you have Jell-o, but it’s not the flavor you wanted. So it’s good, but it’s not as good as it could be. I’m stuck wanting things that I can’t have. Why do I do this to myself? Unobtainable.

I’m starting to freak the fuck out, kids, because it’s crunch time, especially in Senior Seminar, and I’m not making the progress I feel like I should be making. I have no clue how the hell to even begin the presentation that’s due in a week. I have a presentation for another class in roughly a month, on a book that I haven’t even begun to think about reading. On top of it all, I just want to go home for break, and I have no way to get there at the moment. And I’m not sure I’m going to find a way. Balls.

I don’t even know how to say all the things I want to say. I feel emotionally retarded.