Back in January, I came home Kentucky with some scary realizations. I was scared that I might not know him as well as I thought I did on an emotional level, and that our relationship had become purely sexual. I didn’t think I wanted a hallow relationship with him, so I thought maybe if I brought up the things in conversation, we would be able to work it out. That both of us would have a mutual realization of the things we were doing wrong, and we would automatically know how to fix it.
So I brought it up. And obviously, it didn’t vanish like I thought I would. We had nights when we would be fighting, crying, or outright yelling and accusing, which was mostly done by me. And we talked about breaking up a lot. It seems that the problems we were having were casting a harsh light on our differences. Ones that had always been there, but we had always quietly respected or adjusted to before. The problems that I thought I had found soon took a back seat to the differences, which seemed a lot more ugly.
Over the last week or so, we had talked about our individual thoughts of breaking up. I would quickly to admit mine. I thought I was genially unhappy. That I didn’t think I would be able to with live his views on certain things, his attitudes, or the emotional walls I felt I kept running into.
Only a couple of days ago I remember saying “I don’t think I want this anymore,” at the end of a very large fight. He had said he would not let our problems ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him. We didn’t break up that night, and I honestly cannot say if it was because I just thought that things could get better or subconsciously couldn’t.
Over the time we were together, if the issue of us breaking up ever came up, it usually was just something like a distress call then an actual thing that could happen. Because every time it was always the other person pleading as to why we shouldn’t. Maybe that changed my fears of breaking up. Maybe it loosened the term to me. Or maybe I am a horrible enough person to have realized that when Alan was doing something I didn’t like I could just whip that topic and know I would get my way.
Regardless, our continuous fights had left us both thinking. After we had agreed to try again, I actually felt better. Nothing was resolved, but for some reason I always feel better if I feel I have been heard by someone in some way, like I am no longer carrying it alone. As if I can suddenly let go of it all and it will float away like a black balloon. I suppose that is something I should work on changing. I do more damage than healing, obviously.
Those feelings of relief can be great, but usually after a day I just become mad again. The balloon pops under pressure of boundaries and lands, and I become spiteful, feeling that I was not completely understood. That if everything was done like it was supposed to I wouldn’t still be feeling bad. And I would usually go though the same ordeal again and again. But for some reason, this time it was different.
I was thinking of him, and our life together in the future. For the first time in a month I longed to be with him. To look at him and think, “there is nothing but love for me inside of him,” like I used to. So that I could try to be appreciative the only way I can, if it is even noticed. So that I could at least have the opportunity.
I thought about how I had recently realized I didn’t need kids. How it would be nice to watch him be successful and happy. How I could live with out pets, but just have friends who run zoos or some weird shit like that. Maybe they were childish thoughts. Possibly things I had just made up in my mind that would sound good. That would make me look better, and not as mad I really can be; as bad as he has seen me recently.
But I felt those feelings then. I feel them now. I don’t understand why I am so willing to let go, why I want make him happy more then anything. Maybe I finally was clued in that he did mean it all the times he said he loved me. That he only wanted to make me happy. That there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t love me and didn’t want to keep me safe. That he really never meant to hurt me, like he always told me.
I had stayed home from school yesterday. He called me in the afternoon, and I was fussing playfully about web pages, and about how they had been aggravating me all day. He listened, like he always does. Somehow it came about that he had something he needed to tell me, but he was having trouble. I kept persisting that he tell me, but he told me no, because it would upset me. I told him it was upsetting me more not telling me. And he said “I have been thinking…”
That’s all he said before we hung up so he could go down stairs and have dinner. He didn’t really need to say much more. Recently, when someone said something like that, we knew we would be having a conversation that would talk about breaking up. That someone had found another reason why. But his tone was different. The quiet after words was different. And he didn’t say he loved me before he hung up with me.
I just sat there. I did things online, with my mind blank. I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t feel pain, I didn’t cry, I just… sat. But I don’t think I was numb. I was aware of what was happening. But I wasn’t panicking. Things like this were always resolved. They never happened. Not to us.
He called me back about 10 minutes. He ate his dinner fast, and we talked about that for a while. He asked me about what I was doing online, and we talked about that too. And then there was a silence. Not very long. So I decided to asked “Do you want to break up with me.” He was quiet. He seemed to think, to struggle a little, and then said, simply, “Yes.”
What happen after words is hard for me to really distinguish. I didn’t know exactly what to say. There was a lot of confusion. I wasn’t prepared for that answer. Or the tone he said it in. On so many levels, I wasn’t. Everything in me automatically retracted.
He told me he had been thinking about the things I had said all day. About our fights. That he didn’t like my reasons for wanting to stay together were good reasons. And how recently, when we get off the phone, he is unhappy. And that he doesn’t love me the same anymore.
I made him unhappy. I won’t be able to grow old with him. I kept hearing in my head “you ruined it,” “you hurt him,” and “he doesn’t want you anymore.” And he really doesn’t want me anymore.
He still wants to visit me, and he still wants me to come to his prom. How can he ask that of me? How can he ask me to be so close to something I can no longer have. To be face to face to another thing I screwed up, something that represents a crushing failure. Someone that represents a life and a love that I had wanted to be apart of so badly. He had made me start carrying about simple things again. Like making myself look nice, and respecting myself, and that I’m not some sort of monster. How can I be around someone who just makes me feel like it’s all so worthless.
He was asking me if I wanted to talk, and I quickly said no. I wanted to get off the phone, so I could cry. Cry so hard, and wouldn’t have to hear anymore of his reasons why, as if that would make me stop. As if I would say “damn, you’re right.” How can someone still care, but still be able to do this to a person?
He wanted to talk to my mom. I asked why, but he just made the request again. I told her to pick up. Alan told her that we had just broken up, and that he thought I would need comforting. That only led to an awkward hour where my mother brought me into the kitchen. I just sat there crying in front of her. I felt like I was on display. I just wanted to go and hide in my room.
when I got back to my room, I called Alan. I thought maybe I had something to say. I thought maybe if I did do something I could change it. I thought that was what I did wrong the first time. And he told me he was in a little bit of a hurry. That he was about to walk out the door, since he was going to meet a friend and go out to a movie. But he stayed to talk to me. I’m not really sure why.
I ended up crying like a little baby. I was sobbing, and it was embarrassing. I felt so weak and alone. I asked him please. He said no.
After words, I just laid down in bed. I curled up in a fetal position and cried. And my mind wouldn’t turn off. It kept taking me back through memories. Like how he had pointed out the store were he said he was going to buy our engagement rings. And how I always recognized it whenever we passed it. And how he had promised never to hurt me, and promised to marry me. And how I believed it. Even when I was mad, even when I was hurt. How much I really wanted that.
I don’t know what time I finally got to sleep. Regardless, I woke up around 2:30. I almost immediately started crying. I needed to do something to take it off my mind, so I signed on. Alan was on. He was tired. I half had wanted him to be online… But a lot of me couldn’t deal with it. I went through and changed my stupid AOL profile. The profile Alan had thought so cute, how I had listed my name as “Chrisy Leturno.”
I went to his web site His profile on his pages still talked about me being his soul mate. I told him he needed to change it. He said he needed to update all of his pages. I decided to save a copy of his profile on my computer. Soon, he was too tired to stay awake. He told me he would call me tomorrow. And he said goodnight. He didn’t say that he loved me then, either.
I stayed up until 5 Am watching NickAtNight. Even after I turned my lights off, I didn’t really sleep. I was just tossing and turning, to move from wet spots on my pillow. I had to wake up at 6 to go to school, and I took my regular morning bath. But after words, I had to ask my mother to let me stay home.
I literally couldn’t stop from crying. Or sobbing. My mother tried to cheer me up, saying that I needed to tell Alan that she wasn’t ready for him to break up with us yet. She’s sweet. She tries.
I went to bed and slept. I only slept an hour in a 1/2, but I felt refreshed. My eyes weren’t so puffy anymore. And I thought I felt better. I was around 10 o’clock, and I had breakfast with my mother. We talked some.
Then I came here, into my room. I’ve been doing some web things this morning, and for the past hour or so, I’ve been writing this. I cried while I wrote, of course. I don’t know if I wrote because I wanted someone to read it, or I just wanted to make a documentation of the events,because I have such a horrible memory. I don’t know much anymore.
Alan is calling me this afternoon to have a long talk about us. That’s all I have to look forward to. Just to hear his voice. The same one that was telling me that he loved me, only this time he will be describing why he is right. How I will find someone better then him. That I don’t know, but I’ll be happy. That I’ll see.
Maybe it was just false reassurance all along. Maybe in due time I will realize someone was trying to look out for me. Maybe I’ll understand that there is more then just my pain left. Maybe there are more possibilities for me. Maybe I can find some way to learn from things and maybe try this again. But probably not. Not with a murdered spirit, crushed dreams, and a hallow heart.