As any other night, I find myself distracting myself from my current life’s miseries with anything worthwhile on my phone. Tonight, that consisted of Dawson’s Creek, a TV show (currently on Netflix) that came out about two decades ago. For being a sucker for drama and romance, this show is right up that ally. In the midst of the third season, the girl falls for the main character’s best friend. How’s that for dramatic, huh? In some of those episodes, unrequited love becomes a very hot topic. In result, this gets me thinking.
I just may or may not be dealing with unrequited love myself. I mean, let me just cut to the chase. My life turns upside down and I run to whatever distracts me from the inevitable turmoil. Of course this involves a boy, and frankly, I’ve been debating whether or not I wanted to write about it. But thank god I made a blog where I write about whatever I want.
Sparing many of the intimate details, I’m stuck feeling like shit at the moment, and probably for a while, about giving into a few too many impulses. I love communicating through music. So if you’ve ever heard the song (or even just the chorus), “I found” by Amber Run, you just might know exactly how I feel.
For the first time in a couple of years, after my last disaster of a relationship, I actually felt something for someone else. Even worse, I allowed it. If anyone really knows me, I don’t always have the healthiest of attachments. So I fell. And I fell fast, and hard.
This person allowed me to enjoy things that I never had before. I started to believe in certain things that I thought were dead as burned ashes. Even the thought of them in the middle fo a work day would put a dumb smile on my face and I’d laugh. After my crash, I was brought back to life. And I allowed it.
I almost feel selfish for anything ever happening. Thinking that something, anything, in my life to feel right. To not crumble to the cold hard ground.
I can’t help asking myself why would I allow those things to happen? I got so blinded that I didn’t see the hints towards what I’m currently sitting with. An unrequited love. The constant feeling of being unwanted. The feeling of not feeling good enough. Beating myself up, just like the night I had crashed my truck. That night, it’s like I knew what the unavoidable future would’ve been if I went down that road.
After that crash, I didn’t want to be alive. Fighting with my mind, and PTSD, feeling like I should’ve died. God survivor’s guilt is an awful, awful thing. I was hurting so, so bad. I wasn’t me. Then that mysterious boy that he is, brought me on a trip. It was a trip to get away from all of the bullshit in life. God I wish I could go back. Or now at this moment in time, just forget it ever happened. But of course my feelings just kept growing. What can I say, I know what I want. Unfortunately, I still tend to be impatient even though I literally have a tattoo that tells me otherwise. I then came home after that trip feeling more like myself again. And god, this person was the best part of the worst year of my life.
Now, without them, I struggle with these pushed off feelings from when I lost my truck, and now a bit of heartache. Not just any heartache. The same kind of heartache that I’ve only ever felt once before. Yet somehow, I keep thinking of the first occurrence, almost more than the one that I’m currently in. There’s just so much.. pain. I keep questioning, is any of this normal? Is it my PTSD? I’m so confused right now. Now, any good samaritan would tell me to focus on myself. Of course I’m trying to do that. It’s why I write on my blog in the first place. It’s why I’m finally writing about what’s on my mind. Exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about, but as anyone should know, bottling things up only makes things worse.
I have a really hard time not blaming myself for things I cannot control, and this is one of them. In both times of heartache, the other person just.. lost interest. Like a total personality flip. One person one minute, then something completely different the next, with no going back. I always end up asking, “What did I do wrong?”.
“Am I really that bad?”
“Do I really deserve this?”
All faith in this generation, or maybe even society itself, is just lost. I curl up on my recliner, wearing my favorite robe, throwing on my Netflix, and shutting this cruel world away. I do have to say, I feel like I’m at the end of my rope. I’m afraid that I will decide to do something reckless in the matter of a split second. If I crash again, I’d hope that I won’t be around to live through the same pain as from the first one. If I resort to substances, my life’s sobriety would’ve been for nothing when it comes to learning anything from my father.
Now, this particular person hasn’t necessarily done anything wrong. Things suddenly became abrupt and me being friendzoned. Or more accurately, pushed away. All I want to do is help. Be there. Do something. It’s not fair. But shit this world really does suck at times. Most of the time.
Now, what inspired me to write this rantful post is the fact that the past is always there to creep up on me and fuck shit up. So, I’m also thinking of my ex. What I not-so-long-ago had to go through. I mean, it sort of is the past repeating itself.
I fell for a friend while that friend already had their own thoughts and feelings. I become anxious and antsy. I open up to them. I overthink things. They become ‘my whole world’ as all other things become seemingly irrelevant. I give myself to them. Things go great. One thing happens, then boom. All that dies down to nothingness and I’m left alone with nothing but more pain.
Super healthy, right? Kidding. Not to point fingers, but I think growing up in a toxic family household has something to do with it. I’ve never seen a healthy relationship from up close. Maybe I’m too intense. Too difficult. Undesirable.
I’ve been going back and forth about writing about this, but I think for my sake, it needed to be put down. That’s something fairly new that I know means taking steps in the right direction: putting me first. Saying fuck it. Taking care of myself. Focusing on me. Getting it all out there. But damn is it lonely. Sparing me the cheap optimism, I know that I need to give myself time. Earn some more self respect. Let myself feel the pain, get over it, learn from it, and move on. That’s the goal. It’s a definite change of pace. I know I might not be perfect, but I’m willing to change. To better myself. And most of all, be able to live with myself and learn to love myself.