I’ve been weighed down by indecision the past couple of days. This isn’t unusual for me. I’m not great with finality–knowing that a move I make or an action I partake in is going to alter the future with any degree of permanency. I feel unqualified to make such decisions. I’m just an average girl. I don’t believe that I am capable, in the slightest, to sit here and say that I’m ok with the prospect of never seeing my girlfriend, my best friend–my person ever again. I’m desperately holding on to that which I know so intimately and in depth–it’s all I know.
I’m not good at a lot of things. I failed miserably at college. I’m an awkward social misfit. I am riddled with anxiety paranoia and neuroticism. I’m fear driven in many ways. I’m awful with money. I have limited impulse control.
I’m certainly not the epitome of perfection–that’s for damn sure.
But, I am good at love. I don’t like a lot of people. I find most individuals annoying, useless, amoral, weird, boring, uninteresting, etc. etc. It’s not that I’m some sort of elitist. I just don’t care to hang out with those who don’t intrigue or fascinate me in some way. It would be a waste of my time. And that’s saying something, cause I have a lot of it to waste. I like funny, edgy, intelligent, sweethearted, genuine folks. I don’t want bitchy liars surrounding me. I don’t want to be bored out of my mind when I go out. My dogs provide me with more entertainment than most people I know. I mean, shit, they catch frisbees in their damn mouths and shake their ass every time they see me. It’s endearing.
So, when I find someone I like–I do my goddamned best to keep ’em around. for as long as humanly possible. I have so few individuals to devote myself to that I make sure to provide each of them with the most positive attention I can. No, I don’t think that they are in any way lucky or fortunate to have been caught up in my snare. In fact, I tend to believe the opposite to be true. I perceive them to be in for a world of hurt, pain and frustration. Because that’s how it is with me. The closer you get the more of the darkness you will see. The closer you get, the more afraid I will become. I am so afraid of everyone finally seeing the real me, seeing that I’m not all that interesting, that I’m not all that fascinating, that my facade does not at all match the person inside. I want to preserve that initial attraction by detaching myself from them before they stumble upon the most disappointing of discoveries. It’s kind of the James Dean mantra “Live fast, Die Young, Have a Beautiful Corpse.”
I’m not mysterious, I’m not that complicated, I just tend to shirk away from dependency.
But, I did (do) love her. She saw the best of me. She saw the worst of me. She saw me when I was makeup free, bare, exposed and one hundred percent real. She was me naked after imbibing copious amounts of tortillas, rice, beans, chips, salsa and margaritas. She saw me when I wasn’t putting on an Academy Award worthy performance–when I wasn’t just acting. When I was with her I could finally relax. I could just be myself. It was not complacency, it was so much more than that. It was difficult to achieve, but we finally were able to enjoy a peaceful level of comfortableness with each other.
There were many…many times where I wanted to just end things just to get it over with. Already afraid of the end–even after only weeks of dating. I constantly found myself fretting over what she thought of me-always worrying that she would find someone else who was more fun or more attractive than myself. I didn’t see my self worth back then. All I could see was how crazily into this woman I was and how confused as fuck it made me to think that she was paying one bit of attention to me.
But, I got over myself. I got over those unreasonable freak-outs. I grew to the point where I could call her without hanging up–when I could answer the phone without scanning the caller id. I could go see her without having to endure four hour long pep-talks with myself on the drive up there. I wouldn’t break into a nervous sweat when I thought about kissing her or holding her hand. Progress was made. Granted, it would take about an hour or two after seeing her for me to settle down and stop talking a mile a minute. But, we got there.
It took over a year to get to the point where I have achieved this complete and absolute sense of easiness and contentment when in her presence. It’s great. It truly is. I’ve never been more honest than when I am with her. It’s amazing, it really really really is.
But, with this degree of achieved serenity comes the inevitable negativity. When I’m capable of being so open someone–the sugar coating of all of my actions and feelings eventually turns into salted acridity. I stop always being nice and understanding–and my real insecurities come spilling out of my mouth before I can stuff them back in. I think it’s the shock to the system of discovering that I’m not the beacon of perfection people believe me to be that makes this reality even more jarring. And I’m sorry for that.
But, I’m such a frazzled fucked up kid inside. I’m afraid. I’m scared. I’m worried all of the time. At the end of the day I just want to be loved and appreciated. But, I’m so concerned with achieving this that I fuck up any chance I had at ever holding on to it. It’s a truly tragic cycle that I’m finally figuring out how to break out of. But, too little, too late.
I am going to be a wonderful partner for someone. I don’t know when that will be or if it ever will be, actually. But, I have hope. Because I know that my merits will eventually outshine my less enviable qualities. All it’s going to take is for me to find someone that can see through my mask, peer inside my soul, recognize what needs to be done to keep me happy and feeling adored–keep me feeling like I am the most important person in their life–keep me feeling like I’m worth a damn. For some one to honestly love every little thing about me. Even the things I try so desperately to hide from the world.
I’m a fuckin’ romantic, y’all.. I can be the sweetest little darlin’ girlfriend in the world–because that’s how I naturally am. That is who I am. That’s what I want to be. A people pleaser. But, if I am uncomfortable in any aspect of my relationship–and it is not addressed, if it is ignored, or dealt with in anger–then I will react adversely. I will act out.
And I’m sorry that’s the road that she and I have opted to travel down. We took it together. Our arms were still interlocked. Our hearts still connected by a tangled mess of veins, capillaries and arteries. All bloody and entwined. But, we were one. This path was laid down long before we got there.
Our roads are finally diverging. And I’m reluctantly letting her go. It’s what is necessary right now for both of us to gain a semblance of clarity. For us to really figure out what we want, who we are, and what we are expecting out of a relationship. It will just take time.
I don’t feel we will be apart forever. That’s just now how this relationship is supposed to end. It’s not how it’s going to end. It’s more of a period of recollection. It might be viewed as finite and conclusive at this point–but it’s not. I may be an emotional fuck up, but I am also very smart. And intuitive. And I am choosing to believe that we will have the happily ever after. We are one. We are unified. Together we fight, together we fall. But, as the phoenix we will rise again.
For now I’m falling to one side of the tightrope I’ve lost my ability to balance. And I’m admitting and accepting change and defeat. It hurts. It sucks. I’m wearing her sweatshirt right now, using it to wipe each one of these painful tears. Every single thing I do reminds me of her. It’s going to be a long road, but I know it will end up back at her doorstep.
Until we meet again.