Drunk and I don't even have a phone I could use to call someone crying at this obscene hour and leave a pathetic voicemail. Grr. Not that it's even worth it. What I should do, (and will do after I cry this little missive out, take a bath and maybe even rub one out cuz fuck you) is just snuggle up with my cats and sleep.
Everything is fine until someone decides to rub my nose in it. Until someone forgets that just because I am not trying to molest him anymore because I realized that it somehow pushes all the wrong buttons, that doesn't mean I'm not still totally, apologetically "in love" with him. When he follows the road of constant co-conspirator to the "god, don't they know we're not together" junction with others and I have to stop and say "listen, I'm not going to be in charge of bearing my hearts worst feeling at them, even if it is true...that's your problem if it bothers you" and he busts out the "didn't you guys know I was gay" as a cover (which didn't do shit to absolve the fact that they think we're together btw)
If only THAT didn't stab me in all the old places. Which, I guess, it's supposed to. I don't know if he means to do it, in fact I bet he doesn't, but yehuda knows I haven't learned any of my fucking lessons so here I am feeling 17 and totally fucking devastated by what in retrospect will amount to nothing more than something to laugh at later. If only I could really feel that now though. I've been doing so well with the not giving a fuck, but there is always some arrow that will pierce the armor. No matter how many mentions of me as his "roommate" I deflect, how many possibly sexually charged statements I ignore, there is always an awkward social situation or uncomfortable half-question from someone outside that works its way under the skin and reminds me at 3am that whatever this is, it really isn't what I was hoping for.
As much as it would hurt I almost want to pray for the shitty "i've found someone else" situation, because at least it would force my hand. Without that I am stuck in this purgatory of half-returned love. Is it better than nothing at all? When I've been all alone for 2 years I think so, yet knee deep in it I long for nights I didn't have to keep a cold wet towel next to my bed, lest I wake up with giant puffy eyes. The old loneliness was just a low ache, like an old break on the cusp of shitty weather. Nothing anyone would sign up for willingly, but remarkably live-with-able once you've got it.
Intermittent stabs, or continual ache? Why couldn't it just be fucking returned love? Was jc the best I'm ever going to do in that department? A manipulative teenage whore hound who started to pressure me into group activities only months into our "relationship"? Yeah, he'd claim to "love" me, brought me to every shitty family event for 4 years, and even sorta proposed marriage. But looking back he never really treated me like I needed. I was so desperate for reciprocation (*ha* if I could only show her me now...) that I took whoever would play the part, however badly.
Ugh. My head is starting to pulse with the leaking. Fuck this....bath-bed. That's the only thing that sound even remotely good right now.
