I’ve missed a week of writing. I feel shitty about it, yeah. I wanted to post a whole “recap” post before moving on in this journal. But when I started to write today’s entry, I got so caught up. I’ve spent the past two hours writing and crying. But I do that with most journal entries. For the record, me and Alan are back together. He came down last weekend, and I risked My Job to stay with him. That is all you need to know for right now.
Alan is in a different situation then me. He has experienced many other people. Dealing with the idea of there being “others” is something he has had time to get used to. Mainly because it would be hypercritical of him to be frustrated with a girl for having been with other guys, when he himself has been with other girls. It’s just that over time, the excitement and shock are not as storing. The more you do something, the more easier it gets. You don’t worry about it as much, you know? Not to say that the interactions he shares with other people mean anything less than they do for me… But mine are set apart.
I am very far behind in the whole relationship concept. I am still at the beginning. He was my first real kiss. My first real anything. I hold each touch and kiss to that same standard as the first. I attach so much emotion and meaning to every little action. The simple act of kissing seems to hold some earth-shattering sentimental value. Holding hands is sacred grounds. I have not had the time to be ok with the idea of other people. For two years, I was so sure that I was the only one left on his list of “fate.” In addition to my childish denial, I was convinced that I was the only one that could be with him. That I was the only one he would let. I pay more attention to him and his actions just for that simple fact that he is all I’ve had. My first, my only.
But those thoughts and feelings are killing me now. They were not made to take this kind of blow. I’m not supposed to be accepting the fact that there was someone else. I have not been programmed for this kind of burden. I feel like I’m being punished for being happy for a moment.
The one time I should be understanding and accepting and open minded, and I just cannot find it within myself. It hurts me so much. I suppose it was one of the few childhood innocences that I had left. And it appears that that protective bubble was a big part of my relationship with Alan. It was the thing that kept me comftrouble.
The fact that he is here now is what should matter. But then I think of all the times I was home alone crying, thinking of him, and he was out with her. The fact that I stayed home from prom, to depressed to go, aching for him. And he went to prom with her. The prom that we always talked about attending with each other. I was supposed to be ours. I couldn’t even conceive of it. I was so convinced that he still loved me, I couldn’t even begin to fathom it. It’s so hard to describe the feeling of disbelief. The things that went though my mind.
I am selfish and protective. She is my kryptonite.
But in addition to my “childish denial,” I am cursed with curiosity. I am nosey. My mind takes me though situations that have happened in my life over and over. I automatically analyze everything. I torture myself, and I don’t know how to stop it. I am my own enemy. My mind demands I know everything, especially the things that will no doubtably hurt me to know. Every god damned detail. I almost ache for it. And I am fully aware of what I inevitably do with the knowledge, but nothing can faze me from the wonder. I long to know the things that will hurt me. And I do it every time, over and over. There is something wrong with me.
But then, I am afraid to confess all of this to someone. Because then I am afraid they will lie to me to spare me. Nothing is worse then when I suspect someone is lieing to me. It’s unbearable.
If there is ever a moment where I sit quietly, uninvolved in anything, my mind becomes a whirl wind of thoughts. I cry all the time. I just want to scream until I’m out of breath. I want someone to grab me and hug me. Tightly, with strength. I want to feel pressure. Someone taking some form of control. I hate being left alone.
I hate myself.
There have been so many times in my life where there was something that bothered me, and I couldn’t tell anyone. Not for fear of acceptance, or being afraid to show a certain side of me. When I was younger, I learned that sometimes there are things no one wants to hear. It’s difficult to explain, yet I can distinguish it in my mind. There are so many individual parts to it. So many childhood situations that would need mentioning in order for someone else to get a full understanding. And yet, I am reluctant to go into it. For the very reason I’m trying to explain.
I’m afraid that no one wants to listen to me and my feelings. I am terrified of becoming annoying while doing so. I only fear it because I know I think it sometimes about other people. In turn, I decided to keep feelings bottled up. It took a few years, but I soon discovered that doing this was unhealthy, and it was making me withdrawn. I then decided that depending on the situation/problem would determine who I would confide in. I only want to confide in those who my feelings effect, or someone would could make a difference. Someone whom I believe could fix things.
Example: When Alan left me, I didn’t talk about it with my friends. Instead, I e-mailed him constantly, and wrote in my journal. Both of which I assumed he was reading. I knew he had the power to fix what was broken, and I pursued him.
I’ve been trying to get out some thoughts. I am trying to communicate my hurt and my reasons for it. Does anyone understand my demons? I’m trying to make myself feel better. I want Alan to read this and understand what I go though. I know that eventually this situation with Tabitha will become old. He will get tired with me and my problems. But I want him to understand that it kills me when he defends her. That to me, his friendship with her only represents an “option” if he needs it. I want him to know me. I want him to really know me, and still like me. He is the only person I want acceptance from.
Alan called me this afternoon. The first words out of his mouth were that he was going “to paaarrrtttta.” (to party.) My first reaction was that he was going out for the evening. I was a little disappointed about that, I guess. But then he went on to say that he had bought $50 worth of mary jane and planned on smoking it that evening with some friends.
It made me sick.
When we were together before, I had asked him not to do it. That I was not ok with it. During our 3 months apart, he picked up again from work. When he first told me, I let the comment glaze over. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t expect it to continue.
The whole idea makes me worried for his health and safety. I have such strong feelings about it… I can’t even vocalize them. I just can’t. I don’t have the effort in me to draw a perfect circle around each comment. It is too hard to explain my feelings, and still sound completely open minded at the same time.
I started to cry while we were on the phone. I told him I could not be with someone who did it. I could not be comftrouble with myself or him if he did. He was quiet for a very long time, breathing heavily into the phone. He said that after tonight, he would stop. He said that if the decision was between it or me, he chose me. And it just made me feel worse. I always want someone to comply to me, but I hate how it makes them feel. I do it every time. It’s something he enjoys doing, and I’m the reason he can’t. I’m depriving him of it.
He said he was ok with it, but he later admitted that he was a little aggravated with the fact. I’m afraid he will continue to do it and not tell me. There really isn’t any way of me knowing other than his word. If he doesn’t tell me, no one else does. It wouldn’t be a hard secret to keep. I hope to god he doesn’t. I am tired of being hurt by things I was not aware of at the time they were happening.
I’m just tired. And afraid. And exhausted from writing.
Note: Timestamp of entry is not accurate.
”… I just melt. Guilt sweeps over me, and I feel horrible. How could I have said such things about a person whom I know truly loves me? He does try, but all I do is watch for when he trips. I have yet to really understand why I insist on doing so.