I don't recognize my life right now. I don't really recognize me right now. I feel like I have lived so many lives already, been so many people. So many friends and places and loves have made up the scenery, I hardly recall them all, and many don't exist anymore. Not to me.
I don't know what to believe anymore. I am drifting and stuck at the same time and don't know whether to plant my feet or shake the shit out of myself.
I was so sad and troubled once. Totally incapable of expressing what a mess I was and falling apart from the inside out. I had been through such cycles of confusing, insufficient friendships (no blame placed, of course) and complete collapse of my sense of self. I picked a guy who was, at the very least, stable. He loved me, he tolerated me, he took care of me. And shoot, I was a nightmare. I was a hot mess, then. Poor Dave. If he was anything, it was a good, solid guy. Not that he never erred, but I had never had anyone more true and devoted. I can see now that we were NOT overly in love. There was no magic. There was someone there for me, for the first time, really. And I appreciate all he did for me, which I think was more than I know.
Eventually, I had shaken the depression and mood swings and non-communication and Prozac. Felt like a new girl. I could be all the me I had been, without the hard fall after--all the zazz without the depletion after. I felt basically ok about who I am and what I had to offer. Paul was my partner for the most contented time of my life I have ever had. I was happy, active (For some of that relationship, at least, ha, ha. There was some really fat time when I was the last person who would've been a fan of me.), had reachable goals and a job/friends/boyfriend that gave me a strong sense of place. I knew who I was, who needed me, who I needed and that, basically, we all fit together. The only thing lacking with Paul was foresight.
Maybe not foresight, I don't think it was that I couldn't see that we would not want the same things in the long run. I think I really didn't want them yet. Paul taught me an enormous amount about myself, about compromise and communication and real life with love, about confidence in your person and comfort. I did love him. An f-ton to be truthful. And I still do. He was a fabulous, beautiful, caring person and he did me no wrong. I miss him.
But alas, then came the sneaking ambition to do more with my life. I realize I needed someone creative and sharp, who would challenge me and lead me to new things and have as much zeal for a busy, adventurous life as me. Someone who would take a risk sometimes. Set their goals high. And so I left. And this is where it gets confusing.
Basically always made good choices, knew when to quit and what went wrong, took some hits but hardly even any body damage. Self: solid. Me: still me. Blah blah blah, this guy, that guy, a smart, prickish, self-important politician, a tiny, bad-mannered photographer, a really beefy guy with good style on a longboard. (You remember him don't you? The one you saw me on a date with? You remember how that felt? Now multiply that icky feeling of feeling small and a tiny bit betrayed--slapped in the face?--by 100. Imagine you loved me like I do you, now. Imagine I did that to you now. You might understand how I feel about you, now, Mr. I Didn't Cheat. But I have other examples, relevant to your life even, if you need more clarification.) A PhD in English who taught lit at DU. A guy that made me laugh more than anyone has before or since and valued family and travel and life experiences (perfection!) and whom I fell for harder than I have for anyone before or since.
But I didn't want any of them. They didn't want me, either, some of them, but the feeling was mutual. Good times, nothing more.
But then there was you. Least likely to. Never swept me off my feet or impressed me or made me feel giddy. Not back then. You were nice. Pleasant. I had a good time with you. Never WOW but always happy when we parted. It was just good. So we went on. How did I get into this so far? Did it start way back then?
Little by little, I shined less and less. I could tell certain things: I didn't laugh as much or make others laugh as much. I was a little boring. I was less sassy, less confident, less me.
More uncertain and scared. More and more vulnerable and less and less comforted. I became a difficult person I don't even know. I felt sad as often as I did happy. Worried and confused and full of doubt in you and me. This all made me more and more difficult. I just wanted you to be there for me, to think of me, to love me as well as I loved you. Which I am sure got harder as that circle went on. I was less the me who you might have loved.
Now I am so full of doubt in myself. I feel so set back. Regressed. How could I have been so foolish? I let myself sink with an albatross of mismatched loving. Style? Ability. In so many ways, you are just a boy. You don't have the equipment just yet, I guess. Because I believe we did have the love, I saw it first thing in the morning when you woke up and felt it when you pulled me to you while you slept and when you kissed my hand in the car. But not when I needed something a little harder, broader, bigger.
I guess I was blinded. Out of nowhere I loved you. Everything that had seemed regular before. Pleasant. Unspecial. Now it was wonderful and interesting and had potential. I loved you in a way I hadn't those others. Something deeper, and more willing to adjust, and more intense. And more hurtful and self-destructive and painful.
So unlike me. I feel my foundation is shaken like it hadn't been before. Between how much I want to be around you (and can't) and miss you, and how much self-esteem I have lost in this whole relationship (let alone by the ending), and how much you DID do me wrong, and how jealous and stupid I feel, I don't know how to deal with my emotions. They all lead, one into the other.
They're fading, and hopefully will continue to. But it is a slow road. I don't have the verve I had before. It isn't so easy to get up. I am more dim, more down, tarnished. I pray it is only for some period of grieving, because, as much as I love you, for all the good and great qualities you have, you are NOT worth all the good qualities I had.
Have.
Will have again.
I don't know what to believe anymore. I am drifting and stuck at the same time and don't know whether to plant my feet or shake the shit out of myself.
I was so sad and troubled once. Totally incapable of expressing what a mess I was and falling apart from the inside out. I had been through such cycles of confusing, insufficient friendships (no blame placed, of course) and complete collapse of my sense of self. I picked a guy who was, at the very least, stable. He loved me, he tolerated me, he took care of me. And shoot, I was a nightmare. I was a hot mess, then. Poor Dave. If he was anything, it was a good, solid guy. Not that he never erred, but I had never had anyone more true and devoted. I can see now that we were NOT overly in love. There was no magic. There was someone there for me, for the first time, really. And I appreciate all he did for me, which I think was more than I know.
Eventually, I had shaken the depression and mood swings and non-communication and Prozac. Felt like a new girl. I could be all the me I had been, without the hard fall after--all the zazz without the depletion after. I felt basically ok about who I am and what I had to offer. Paul was my partner for the most contented time of my life I have ever had. I was happy, active (For some of that relationship, at least, ha, ha. There was some really fat time when I was the last person who would've been a fan of me.), had reachable goals and a job/friends/boyfriend that gave me a strong sense of place. I knew who I was, who needed me, who I needed and that, basically, we all fit together. The only thing lacking with Paul was foresight.
Maybe not foresight, I don't think it was that I couldn't see that we would not want the same things in the long run. I think I really didn't want them yet. Paul taught me an enormous amount about myself, about compromise and communication and real life with love, about confidence in your person and comfort. I did love him. An f-ton to be truthful. And I still do. He was a fabulous, beautiful, caring person and he did me no wrong. I miss him.
But alas, then came the sneaking ambition to do more with my life. I realize I needed someone creative and sharp, who would challenge me and lead me to new things and have as much zeal for a busy, adventurous life as me. Someone who would take a risk sometimes. Set their goals high. And so I left. And this is where it gets confusing.
Basically always made good choices, knew when to quit and what went wrong, took some hits but hardly even any body damage. Self: solid. Me: still me. Blah blah blah, this guy, that guy, a smart, prickish, self-important politician, a tiny, bad-mannered photographer, a really beefy guy with good style on a longboard. (You remember him don't you? The one you saw me on a date with? You remember how that felt? Now multiply that icky feeling of feeling small and a tiny bit betrayed--slapped in the face?--by 100. Imagine you loved me like I do you, now. Imagine I did that to you now. You might understand how I feel about you, now, Mr. I Didn't Cheat. But I have other examples, relevant to your life even, if you need more clarification.) A PhD in English who taught lit at DU. A guy that made me laugh more than anyone has before or since and valued family and travel and life experiences (perfection!) and whom I fell for harder than I have for anyone before or since.
But I didn't want any of them. They didn't want me, either, some of them, but the feeling was mutual. Good times, nothing more.
But then there was you. Least likely to. Never swept me off my feet or impressed me or made me feel giddy. Not back then. You were nice. Pleasant. I had a good time with you. Never WOW but always happy when we parted. It was just good. So we went on. How did I get into this so far? Did it start way back then?
Little by little, I shined less and less. I could tell certain things: I didn't laugh as much or make others laugh as much. I was a little boring. I was less sassy, less confident, less me.
More uncertain and scared. More and more vulnerable and less and less comforted. I became a difficult person I don't even know. I felt sad as often as I did happy. Worried and confused and full of doubt in you and me. This all made me more and more difficult. I just wanted you to be there for me, to think of me, to love me as well as I loved you. Which I am sure got harder as that circle went on. I was less the me who you might have loved.
Now I am so full of doubt in myself. I feel so set back. Regressed. How could I have been so foolish? I let myself sink with an albatross of mismatched loving. Style? Ability. In so many ways, you are just a boy. You don't have the equipment just yet, I guess. Because I believe we did have the love, I saw it first thing in the morning when you woke up and felt it when you pulled me to you while you slept and when you kissed my hand in the car. But not when I needed something a little harder, broader, bigger.
I guess I was blinded. Out of nowhere I loved you. Everything that had seemed regular before. Pleasant. Unspecial. Now it was wonderful and interesting and had potential. I loved you in a way I hadn't those others. Something deeper, and more willing to adjust, and more intense. And more hurtful and self-destructive and painful.
So unlike me. I feel my foundation is shaken like it hadn't been before. Between how much I want to be around you (and can't) and miss you, and how much self-esteem I have lost in this whole relationship (let alone by the ending), and how much you DID do me wrong, and how jealous and stupid I feel, I don't know how to deal with my emotions. They all lead, one into the other.
They're fading, and hopefully will continue to. But it is a slow road. I don't have the verve I had before. It isn't so easy to get up. I am more dim, more down, tarnished. I pray it is only for some period of grieving, because, as much as I love you, for all the good and great qualities you have, you are NOT worth all the good qualities I had.
Have.
Will have again.
1 comment:
I'm too indecisive for it ever to work. You know that deep down. There must've been at least five times where huge differences, ideological foundation of being differences, we both over looked to stay together. I can't even guess your reasons for continuing to overlook such blaring defects in me. I never noticed a change, if that helps. You'll bounce back a hundred times greater and have a thousand new friends before I even make one. You know how this will end, you've lived it before. I can only speculate
Post a Comment