If Iím truly honest with myself, I can see that it wasnít
working a lot of the time. But I also know that Iíd probably never have given
up. I wouldíve kept trying. But he did give up Ė and rather than showing weakness,
it makes him the stronger one of us. When I am at my strongest and most logical
I can see that this is the best thing for both of us, but when I am my weakest Ė
in the mornings, when I wake up alone and at night, when I go to bed alone Ė I simply
Seeing him today, for the last time, is going to be
unspeakably tough. It was never going to be easy, but now that heís not mine,
that heís not coming home to me, ever, itís even worse. Or perhaps it will be a
helpful step in letting go, I donít know. Of course, the main problem in all this
is the fact that I donít want to let him go. Iíve never wanted that. I was
going to get through by holding onto an image of his return, but now that hurts
more than anything because it is pure fantasy.
I never thought that Iíd say this, but love is overrated.
Unrequited love is the worst, and thatís all I ever seem to find. From both sides,
as it turns out. Heís never been able to feel that way about me that I do about
him, but I know now that someone also feels that way about me. If I could
choose the person I loved, Iíd pick them in a heartbeat, but sadly thatís not
I wish I could stay cynical like this, but the truth is that
Iíll always be waiting for the lightning bolt moment.
Why is that watching and reading depressing fiction makes me
feel better? I think it might be something to do with crying over fictional
pain instead of addressing my own. That makes it sound vastly unhealthy, but itís
really not that bad. Iíve done enough crying over my own pain as it is Ė itís
nice to focus on someone elseís, be they fictional or not.
I also feel that sad fiction is more impressive than comedy.
People will laugh at almost anything, but it takes real skill as a writer or
performer to make your audience feel enough to cry.
Life always takes me in unexpected directions. This latest
one is especially so. Itís something Iíve wanted, in the back of my mind, for
the last few years. Now itís actually happening, in a slightly warped way,
nonetheless. Itís not quite what I wish it was, or what I used to wish it was,
but I think itís still what I need right now. Itís what we both need. Itís
going to be impossible to explain to anyone if I need to Ė especially J Ė but I
think that itís worth it.
Heís leaving tomorrow. I am trying to ignore it.
Why is Ďgoodbyeí such a powerful word? The other day, we
both knew thatís what we were doing, but we were both able to keep compose
ourselves until he uttered that word. At that point, we both lost it.
Itís odd that I was more composed than he when we spoke
today. At that point, I was quite numb. It didnít all hit me til later. When it
did, it knocked the breath out of me. I am going to miss him. No matter how
much negativity I can now see in our relationship, thereís no getting away from
I think that guys really miss out by not having best
friends. Thatís not to say all guys are without them, but lots are, and it
seems that some of those who do have them donít form the same bonds that girls
do. And this is coming from someone whose friends are predominantly male! But J
and I are different. Weíve been best friends for nine years now, and thereís no
realistic reason that weíll ever not be. Even when weíve been apart for a while,
as soon as weíre together again, itís like no time has passed at all.
Iím probably hurting myself in doing this. B doesnít want me
to get hurt, but I donít think itís the new development thatís going to hurt me
eventually, I think itís just spending time with him. And thatís something Iím
not going to stop, even at my own risk. Weíre possibly the oddest best friends
ever Ė but thatís what we are. I just need to stop myself falling in love with
him. I forgot for years, I made myself forget, how much I used to like him, but
now that weíre both single, itís all come flooding back once more.
Four years. I hate this date. I hate that it gets a little easier
every year. I hate that today I woke up and it felt like an ordinary day
because feeling sad has become part of my routine. I hate that having my heart
broken leaves me feeling as sad as losing her, but I suppose it balances out,
as one is still so fresh. The other is a much worse hurt, but it has dulled.
While itís significant, I donít miss her more today than I
do other days. Just the same. Which is to say, a lot.
So J knows. Unsurprisingly, she knew something was up.
Surprisingly, she not only doesnít mind, she understands. Obviously sheís mildly
concernedĖ she knows that I am not one to supress my emotions and so itís
possible Ė likely even Ė that Iíll get hurt from all this. I suppose there are
three potential outcomes.
We fall madly in love and live happily ever
We decide to end this mutually and go back to
being best friends.
One of us develops feelings the other doesnít
return and gets hurt as a result.
I know which option Iím rooting for.
I think the universe is trying to make amends with me. I won
a raffle today, and found a stunning dress for only a dollar. I somehow knew I
was going to win the raffle.
I got upset and the left the party last night. Not really
early or anything, but I could just suddenly tell I was at my breaking point.
For all my talking about it, I hadnít really dealt with H leaving yet. That,
combined with the anniversary, was just too much. I came home and I just lost
it. But at least I made it home. †
Itís hard to think of a hundred words to say when Iíve done
nothing of interest all night and all day. I would have loved to get dressed up
and go somewhere sparkly last night, but, alas, I have neither the company or
the money at my disposal to do so. I think that dressing up and looking your
best can be healthy. No one looks their best all the time, and nor should they
have to, but itís kind of a way of showing that youíre still interested enough
in yourself and the world to put in the effort.
I seriously need to learn how to control my emotions, or at
the very least, the filter between my brain and my mouth, which at this point
appears to be largely non-existent.† He is
lovely and understanding, however, and didnít immediately run away Ė something Iíd
not have blamed him for. We stayed up basically all night talking Ė heíd been
up for over twenty-four hours by the time we actually went to sleep. Itíd be
the perfect beginning to a relationship if this was a sitcom. Which, alas, it
I need to stop watching so much television.
I feel pretty lucky to have the friends I do, for the most
part. Iíve had/am having issues with a specific group of them, but I think a
lot of that has to do with our having been friends for so long. Everyone is
having trouble adjusting to all the changes that have been thrust upon us of
Lately,† Iíve been
making a real effort with a group of people that Iíve been friends with for a
while, but never spent nearly enough time with. Theyíre the most consistently
not-boring people Iíve ever known Ė always keeping things exciting, different.
How I love the beach. It is invigorating and exciting and
fun.† I canít imagine having grown up
somewhere without one nearby. It has always struck me as odd in books or films
when a character has never seen the ocean, or indeed, when they see it for the
first time. I have dozens of amazing memories that happened at the beach, occurring
over my whole life Ė from as far back as I remember, to as recent as today.
Collecting shells is perhaps my favourite part (though I did only get one
today) Ė I have always found them so beautiful.
Mothers. Why do we have them again? I mean, apart from the
whole ďgiving birthĒ thing, whatís the point?
Good God she frustrates me. Itís complicated and all the
more frustrating because so many of her problems and issues just arenít her
fault. So I get infuriated with her, but then feel guilty about it as well. I
worry about her, a lot. Itís horrible, and obviously I donít wish it, but I
honestly would not be surprised if she were to hurt herself one day. I guess itís
our job as her family to keep that from happening, somehow.
I know that Iím probably going hurt myself doing this, and I
know that the way B feels about me will probably never change, but Iím enjoying
this anyway. And I actually think that it might be good for me, in a way.
Crushing on someone, flirting and whatever else weíre doing is just a bit of
fun, so itís keeping me from focussing on how broken hearted I really still am
Perhaps itís just my wishful thinking, but last night things
were so great, that I canít help but wonder if the way he feels is changing.
Iíve said it before, but I really need to get my emotions
under control. Honesty is all well and good in its place, but perhaps it isnít
always the be all and end all of Ďrightí.†
Perhaps being honest with someone isnít worth it if it exposes all your
flaws and hurts them in the process? But perhaps honesty for honestyís sake is
good too. I donít know. Iím not certain of anything anymore. I donít know what
I believe in. I used to believe in God and fate and destiny. I used to believe
that I would be happy.
I want to fall in love. I want someone to fall in love with
me. I want to be a bride. I want to be able to tell people the story of us one
day and have them say ďaww!Ē I want to be able to stand up and give a speech at
our fiftieth wedding anniversary someday, wearing the first piece of jewellery
he ever bought me. I want to be told that I am beautiful, and to look into
someoneís eyes and know they mean it. I want to everything to someone. †
ďI want to be somebodyís Gerry.Ē
He makes me so happy. I can be miserable as I ever thought
possible, but he can still make me laugh and bring me back from that edge. Even
though weíll never be everything that I want us to be, heís the one who makes
me happy, who makes me feel like life is worth going on with, at least at the
moment. I hope that it wonít always be that way, but for now, itís enough to
have something, anything to get me through. I hope that one day I can be the
one that gets someone else through.
I hate feeling like a clichť. Right now for instance, I am
lying in my bed, watching a terrible chick flick (one that Iím not even really
enjoying) and have just polished off a block of chocolate. Wishing I had a
microwave so that I could heat up my wheat-bag.
That said, if I could pick a clichť to emulate, it would be
the Manic Pixie Dream Girl.
Iím sick of being sad, and Iím sick of being tired. But as
many times as I say that, I canít just make those feelings disappear, no matter
how hard I try.
I hate being so confused.
Even more though, I hate that my confusion doesnít actually
matter in the slightest. I donít get to choose anything. Neither him nor B want
me, so my confusion between loving them both doesnít make a difference to anyone
or anything. The only purpose it serves to torture me. Theyíve both said
precisely the same words to me.
wish I could make you as happy as you deserve to be."
I thought that I was a good person. I thought that I deserved to
be happy. But the universe appears to have other plans.
So, as of today, I asked B to help me by making a stand and
stopping us doing what weíre doing. I know itís the right thing to do, but I
donít have the resolve.
All that makes it sound like such a bad thing, but I donít
regret it at all. Like B said today, I think that he has helped me in getting
over him, and in making me feel good about myself again. But had I let it
continue, it wouldnít have been that anymore. It would have been me hurting
myself Ė something Iím trying to avoid.
I have had the most delightful weekend. Friday night was the
Fringe parade, which sported some impressive fireworks and then B and I danced
the night away at my very favourite pub. It made me want to do dance lessons of
some description Ė ballroom with my mother, perhaps. Or I could join Swing with
B when I have some kind of income again.
Ending the night by dancing through the sprinklers was
lovely too Ė I love having the friends that I do these days Ė I donít feel
inhibited by them at all. But perhaps itís me thatís changed, not them.
The overly dramatic part of me finds it almost satisfying
that we ended things today, right before university goes back. Maybe it will be
nice to look back one day and know that I had a summer fling once. I donít
really feel very fling-y about it, but maybe I will one day. Maybe heíll still
change his mind.† Or maybe not. Things
are wonderful between us, but as he said today, maybe thatís just the way that
true friendship is meant to feel.
And I do love having tiny moments that I can look back on
without sadness again. †
Iím not sure that I can forgive the way you treated me at
the end. It was cruel to let me give a speech. It was worse to give yours and
not even mention me. Itís okay that you knew things were over Ė I understand
why you waited to tell me - but not even
saying thank you for all the work that I put in not only confirmed to me that
it was over, but showed everyone else that it was too. You effectively broke my
heart in front of all them all.
I hope youíre proud of yourself.
Iím sick of feeling like Iím not worth anything.
More than that, Iím sick of only feeling worthy when someone
else makes me feel that way. Do I not have any worth of my own? Why do I only
feel real when Iím one half of something?
†What happened to all
the dreams I had as a kid? I never wanted to be someoneís wife, or anything
else. I was going to be a palaeontologist and an artist. I was going to see
snow and Egypt and Paris.
What the hell happened to the me I was going to be?
I know itís not your fault that you donít love me. But for
the life of me, I just canít figure out why. We could be so perfect together.
We have identical taste in films and TV Ė on which we place greater importance
than we probably should Ė and we understand each otherís every thought and
emotion. I have so enjoyed spending time with you lately. I feel like youíve
helped me put myself back together, at least at little bit. Youíre helping to
mend my very broken heart.
I love you. I wish that I didnít, but there it is.
Another powerful word.
Iíve been called sexy and cute, both of which are nice to
hear, but nothing like being told that youíre beautiful.
Especially when it comes from someone with no agenda, no
motive. When theyíre telling you just to make sure that you know it.
And it worked. Being told it makes me feel it, which is a
And for whatever bizarro reason, knowing and understanding
that I am beautiful, at least to someone, makes my life a little easier to
live. †At least, it has today. And
really, I canít ask for more than that.