Not all people that you are romantically involved with will be right person forever, sometimes they are the right person for a month/a year/5 years but a lot of the time they start being wrong for you - it isn’t a bad thing, you’ve just grown together and at some point you will grow apart. Maybe you will find the right person who you can kiss until the day you die but if not, then it doesn’t matter - you are not defined by the person you love.
(Source: veganjerk, via cityofdicks)
Sometimes you know it’s going to happen. It’s waiting. Lurking around a corner, ready to jump out and catch you off guard. Sometimes it feels like you’ve spent your whole life waiting for it to happen.
Well. It did for me. I was in a constant state of mourning, dreading the days to come. Day after day, year after year I waited cautiously until the waiting became unbearable. Always getting closer, never arriving at the inevitable destination.
And then it all happened. Don’t get me wrong, by the end I was hoping for it. But it left a hole inside of me. A grief-shaped hole, that seems to only be able to be filled with sadness.
Sometimes I try to fill the hole. I stuff in as many things as I can- I plan my days so as not to have a minute to myself to think. But there’s always a minute. A minute the hole uses to spit out all the good that it has been filled with, and I am left with a hole.
Sometimes I try more slowly. Adding things one by one, as if I might have a chance of tricking the hole. I listen to more music, I try dancing and drinking coffee. Some days it feels like the hole is shrinking- like I’m full-filling it, in a way.
But some days I wake up and the hole is even bigger than it’s ever been before and I’m lost- all my hard work is lost at the bottom of the hole. All my fulfilment- stuck at the bottom of the crevice…
And I’m left wandering around searching for new things that might fill my hole. Helplessly. Hopelessly. Alone.
I hate everything.
I want to be far, far away in a room all by myself, in a house all by myself, in a city where no one knows who I am. And then I want to cry a while. And then I want to cut things while I watch movies for a few hours.
He’s asleep and I’m still crying. My crying doesn’t bother him enough to stay awake.
I should be able to get over it. I know he loves me. He just can’t do it right. I need someone to take me away to a safe place and to love me for a while. Right now. And probably every now and then as a top up.
Isn’t that what a boyfriend is supposed to be? An escape from reality?
I think I need to buy new socks and break up with Nick.