No Title Given
I kept from calling Alan yesterday. Even thought I knew he wouldn't be home, it was so hard. I e-mailed him though. And he e-mailed me back, saying the same old things, and not answering any of the questions I had asked. I've discovered everytime I e-mail Alan, my hopes float so high. It makes me forget that we've borken up, because I am so sure that what I said could make him stop and think. That it could make him say "I'll think about it," instead of saying "just feel better."
I had to immediately e-mail him back... I had to keep the feeling. I'm trying so hard not to fall apart. I'm trying not to let this be a repeat of my last heartbreak. It was a different kind of letter. I wasen't begging him, and saying how hurt I was. It was a long letter. And I think it's the best I can do, the last I can do. I just ziped myself down the middle, shook whatever contents were left inside of me, and sent it in an e-mail.
I've been trying to write. But it all sounds so childish compaird to the adult relationship I had with Alan. So I went through my old poems. And I found one that fit... Almost to a frightening point.
How Selfish Was I
12-4-1998
How selfish was I
To think I could come, too.
How helpless I feel
With everyone comforting me.
How I've watched you
Shimmering out of my reach.
How strong am I for you
while I weep inside.
And how memories of childhood
Makes me wonder why I'm still alive.
How bitter am I
from the strain of the struggles.
How compassionate I was
swearing that I would die for you.
How I was loyal
While I helped you step over me.
How lonely I am here
When you touch me now.
How miserable am I
So I can entertain you.
How arrogant I was
To think you'd miss me while I was gone.
How I was refused
Form the warm feeling of someone's caring stare.
And how I pleaded with you
To remember that I was still here.
How I've changed
Into the monster that I am now.
And how I held my breath
So you would never hear me scream.
How I made the jokes
To draw the attention away from my scars.
How wrong am I
For being the only one who loved you.
How you never noticed
Me slipping farther down in your lies.
How forgotten am I
In my corner for the mistakes I made for you.
How trusting I was
While you destroyed my innocence.
How in love was I
To yearn that I could be you.
How I believed it all
Reaching for what I was never good enough for;
How selfish was I.
No Title Given
I feel so stupid, I feel so alone. Whenever I cry I get amazing anxiety attacks. I've never really had one before, but I think that is what they are. I just start kicking or flinching and it feels like heat flashes run down my back. They cause me to send e-mails to Alan about just what exacatly is on my mind that the time. And I can't talk to anyone about it. I can't scream at them, I can't make them understand, I can't make them make it better. I can't tell friends because no one wants to hear it. I can't tell Alan because all he gets is annoyed.
Why can't he realize how much this hurts me. Why won't he stop. He promised me he would never hurt me. It was stupid of me to believe him. I shouldn't have believed him. I shouldn't have trusted him. WHY CAN'T HE STOP THIS. I can't sleep full nights. And he's never home anymore. He makes himself busy. Doesn't know that kills me. He can't even make time to tell me I'm worthless now. He says he's going out with the same friend, but I don't believe him. I can't trust him. I CAN'T STAND THIS. Why can't be put himself in my position. Why can't he love me. He promised me he would. And this all sounds so fake and phony.
And it's pissing me off that I can't say anything that will change his mind. I can't do anything, I'm powerless. I CAN'T STAND THAT. I just want to scream. Everything that I want to tell him, the things that I need to tell someone, just makes him more angry at me. I can't even describe how I am really feeling. I just keep spouting the same feelings over and over. And it's harder for me to breathe when I cry. My whole chest just clamps up, and I can feel it. He's just going to start hating me like Carl. I can't stand being like this. But I want him to see me like this. I want him to see what he's done to me. He was my life.
Why does he keep denying me. Why won't he let me try again. WHY CAN'T HE LOVE ME. He didn't even talk about this with me. He just took one day out of his life and decided to change my life. It's not fair. Why can't he see it's unfair. Why can't he feel anything I say. How can he go from saying that he refused to break up and then to this. He doesn't know what is best, he doesn't know. He never talked to me. He isn't in the future. How can he think I could be better for someone else. How can he think there's someone better out there for him. What if years from now he realizes he was wrong. I'd never be the same, the person I am now is dead, and he would be wrong. I don't understand how he can take a bad month and have that be the only representative of our relationship. This is the one thing that has been keeping me alive for the past 2 years. How can he say he's happier now without me. How can this be better when I'm like this.
I've been through this before. I'm only 17, and it's happened to me twice. And it just gets worse each time. I keep having to create a whole nother version of me each time into something someone can love. I don't know if I can reinvent myself again. Each time I take the risk to trust someone. No one ever wants to keep me. WHY CAN'T HE LOVE ME. Why can't I be what he wants anymore. Why can't I be what he wants now. Why doesn't he think I can give him that. Why aren't I important. How can he change so quickly. Change into one of the monsters that I always told him I was so scared of. That was always when he promised he'd never leave me. And promise he'd marry me. Now I'm just damaged goods again. Why can't I say anything that could make him change his mind.
Alan doesn't know unhappy. There are so many things I could never tell him in fear that what is happening to me now would have happened a lot sooner. And I wish I could tell him them now, but it would only worsen my chances of being with him again. To make him see that he wasen't he only one hurting. My love was always stronger then my hurt. I want him to care. But I don't think he cares that I was hurting to, but that I kept trying. I want him to realize he should keep trying to. And I keep hoping for that. And for some reason, in an incredibly helpless way, I don't think he will ever change his mind no matter what I do. But I can't stop, for my sanity's sake. And it just keeps hurting.
I'm trying so hard to get this out of my system, I'm trying to feel like I'm talking to someone. I just wish I had someone to respond. Not the "You'll be ok," or "You'll see." I want to have someone hold me and say that they will make it better. To fix what this is, not to give me someone else. I feel like it's a race to get the poison out of my system. The one that's taken the glow out of simple things in life to me, the one that's taken my breath, and put the spikes in and outside of my body.
I had to change almost everything on my web site that mentioned Alan. And I was thinking about how happy I sounded. How happy I was. I thought about how I didn't want to change it. I thought about how maybe I should make copies of the original files, encase Alan changes his mind. I thought of how Alan will soon do the same thing to this web pages. And how I've already got copies of all of his files... Encase he doesn't change his mind.
Why do I feel like my pain and suffering just ruins everything. How can he let this ruin us. Nothing will ever be the same. And the longer we wait the farther back we'll be set. We'll lose everything.
My friends have said that he is an asshole. The way he broke up with me, the reason he broke up with me, the way he's treating me now. I don't know what to call someone who does this. Someone who promised me the world and then rips it away from under my feet.
No Title Given
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.
No Title Given
Alan just broke up with me. He doesn't love me anymore, he doesn't want me anymore, and I'm back to being some pathetic little puddle. Helpless and confused and feeling really unwanted. And it's my fault, like it's always my fault. I can't open my mouth without ruining something. I've never been able to, and I still can't now.
I don't know how many times I'll be able to have everything ripped from under me. To have to go back to the realization that I will probably die alone. I hate this feeling. I feel stupid. My whole body actually feels weak, like it can't support me. I feel like I have been physically pushed. Or thrown away.
I called Alan about an hour or so after it happened. I thought that he would change his mind if I asked. But it turned out he was sort of in a rush because he was meeting a friend and going to a movie. Going out.
I ended up crying like a little baby, sobbing... I never sob. I was asking, and I was crying "please." It was pathetic, and it hurt. To hear him just get aggravated at things I said. To hear him say he didn't want to try again. To ask if he still loved me just to hear him say... nothing.
My head just feels like one big hurt. The skin on my cheeks is already raw. I stayed home from school today, so I will have to go tomorrow. I will have to face people. It feels like Alan was my protection, and without it I'm naked with all of my weak spots exposed.
And it's my fault. My fault for making him think. My fault for letting him realize what he really had.
No Title Given
To follow up my rather childish journal entry on the 7th, I chose the lap top and took a day off from school to finish painting my room and hooking this computer up in my room.
Everything has just been going horribly. I keep getting angry whenever I see one of my closest friends with her boyfriend of 6 months, who is also my ex boy friend. I can't talk to Alan because no matter what I say, there is always a smart ass remark to everything, even though I have asked him not to. People on my bus make fun of me when I have my head phones on, and when I look around they're all staring and laughing at me. The UBB at unpretty.net, that I was so proud and excited to have, is shaping up to be a big flop. "Friends" in my classes keep ditching me for other people, and ignore me cruelly. Like I am dirty or something.
I used to think I was ok with seeing Lindsay and Carl together. I encouraged Carl to go after Lindsay, without really expecting her to accept. But even when she did, I was fine. I was happy for them. I thought they looked cute together, and how it was funny that she would have to use a step ladder to kiss him. But since I've been hanging out with her more, and with her friends, I hear them tease her about him, and how she'll tell stories "If I know him like I know him..." Surprisingly, there really isn't any emotional attachment to it for me. I guess I am just a bitter looser. That I never had him pull my chair closer to him. That he never made me soup when I was sick. That I was more of an embarrassment then something to be appreciated. I didn't even know he was capable of such sweetness. I feel like I've lost with a life's worth of training to someone who didn't even know there was a contest. And it stings a little. But things have been worse.
Maybe it was something like this that started my whole problem with Alan. I just get so angry when he asks me to "talk to him," and when I try, I just hear a lot of "uh-huh's" and what not in either careless tones or sarcastic tones. Or he makes fun of what I am talking about, or he'll take a cheap shot at me. He thinks it is funny. And I know he's not doing it to make me mad. But when I've asked him not to, and when he keeps wondering why I get upset when he does, I just get bored with him. It just shows a lot of disrespect. I hate being made fun of. I made a couple dozen sad attempts at suicide back in 1995 because I was so miserable from the way people joked about me. I am extremely sensitive to it.
Today on the bus, I was innocently listening to my music, and I look up and the person in the seat in front of me is turned around, staring at me with a semi-smile. I asked what was going on, and there was a lot of "no one was talking to you." Then Brian, the boy in front of me, looked at this other boy Mikey saying how he bet I heard what Mikey said. And I looked around the bus, and I overheard conversations that had come from Mikey's comment, them whispering"She's so weird" and then looking at me. I didn't do anything to them to provoke that. I hate them all.
There's this girl, Amanda, whom I have 2 classes with throughout the day. She's one of those people who feed off of other people's happiness because she can't make her own. Recently she reminds me of this fat blob with buggy fish eyes with slime around her mouth and that probing tongue jabba the hut (sp?). And recently, no matter how nice I am, now matter how funny I try to be, I am shaken off while she talks to others. "Better people." When I try to get her attention, she just barley tilts her head and looks at me out of the corner of her eye, if even that. It makes me lonely.
There was a motivational speaker that came to my school today, and since Alan did not seem to want to hear about it because "it's gay," I'm going to write about it here. He was this rather large black man with a booming voice. He was there for drugs, violence, and sex. He had been through everything, from killing his own brother out of rage to being shot 13 times himself. He was a powerful speaker. I had never heard the student body so quiet. When he went to take a breath, it was as if I was in the gym alone, it was so quiet. He told stories of rape and drugs, and had many people crying, and others actually thinking. His name was Joe Jennings. He is a beautiful human being.