I spent last week reconciling myself to the fact that I'm the bitch who broke his heart and he's the one I let get away. It was hard to come to terms with but I had to face facts, I still love him, deeply and truly. I shared this revelation with some of my friends and they said they knew.
I spend this week wrestling with the fact that I want him, badly. I can't have him, he's with someone he loves deeply and he appears to be content. I would never do anything to jeopardise his happiness, I hurt him once, I'd never deliberately do anything to hurt him again. I'm steering well clear of him.
He is everything I pictured I wanted growing up. He was the embodiment of my day dreams and fantasies. By the second date, I knew he was the man I wanted to marry, he's the only man I've ever thought of marrying. I thought that man did not exist. He was and is not perfect, but I believe he was perfect for me. The stuff that annoyed me about him, I merely shrugged and thought, "this isn't all that bad."
If he should want me back, I would hesitate because I left him once before, in the throes of depression I cast him aside, what's to guarantee that I won't do it again when hit with another depressive episode.
I sometimes feel unworthy of being loved. Loving someone with chronic depression is a herculean task, I don't think he would manage. I'm persuaded that he wasn't equipped to cope with my brand of crazy. The brand that needed him but was fiercely independent, the kind of crazy that resented him for needing him and as such wouldn't let him in.
He deserves someone easier to love, someone more sane, normal, someone not as f*cked up in the head as I am.
It's all crazy talk cause I never gave him a fair chance, yet he became my world anyway. My world is a dysfunctional sespool of mental disorders and undealt with childhood trauma, so he will remain the one I let get away and I the b*tch who broke his heart.
Maybe someday I'll be well enough for someone to manage loving me, until then, I love myself.
I spend this week wrestling with the fact that I want him, badly. I can't have him, he's with someone he loves deeply and he appears to be content. I would never do anything to jeopardise his happiness, I hurt him once, I'd never deliberately do anything to hurt him again. I'm steering well clear of him.
He is everything I pictured I wanted growing up. He was the embodiment of my day dreams and fantasies. By the second date, I knew he was the man I wanted to marry, he's the only man I've ever thought of marrying. I thought that man did not exist. He was and is not perfect, but I believe he was perfect for me. The stuff that annoyed me about him, I merely shrugged and thought, "this isn't all that bad."
If he should want me back, I would hesitate because I left him once before, in the throes of depression I cast him aside, what's to guarantee that I won't do it again when hit with another depressive episode.
I sometimes feel unworthy of being loved. Loving someone with chronic depression is a herculean task, I don't think he would manage. I'm persuaded that he wasn't equipped to cope with my brand of crazy. The brand that needed him but was fiercely independent, the kind of crazy that resented him for needing him and as such wouldn't let him in.
He deserves someone easier to love, someone more sane, normal, someone not as f*cked up in the head as I am.
It's all crazy talk cause I never gave him a fair chance, yet he became my world anyway. My world is a dysfunctional sespool of mental disorders and undealt with childhood trauma, so he will remain the one I let get away and I the b*tch who broke his heart.
Maybe someday I'll be well enough for someone to manage loving me, until then, I love myself.
i read most of your blogs and i fall for your writing and thoughts in that big brain
ReplyDeleteThank you. It means a lot coming from you.
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