I want off this rollercoaster. I had enjoyed a semblance of stability. I was not productive or proactive, perhaps. But, I knew I would wake up every morning and feel…. loved, happy, appreciated, adored, and safe. I was not motivated to change, not motivated to improve myself, but I was still comfortable. I enjoyed every moment of every day. A smile was plastered on my face ALL THE FECKING TIME. I laughed constantly. I joked around incessently. I loved my life.
And then I fell for this other woman–this beautiful creature who mystefied and enchanted me every step of the way. Everything she did made me melt inside. I could hardly muster enough energy to pick my jaw up off the floor each time she penetrated my soul with those big brown eyes of hers. She walked with this aire of confidence, she spoke with a lightness of heart and a great degree of quirky humor, she exuded this essence of charming dorkiness that sucked me in. I remember the first night I met her– she came over, just to waste an evening, just to meet the serious girlfriend of her ex of a year and a half, with no expectations, no expected future of us being a couple….just sheer curiosity. She came in acting so intimidatingly awesome–jeans with paint smeared on them (she is an incredibly talented artist), underarm form fitting shirt on highlighting her impeccable physique, with a Ghostbusters shirt on over it. I was smitten. Her deep dark red hair with sporadically spread out bleach blonde highlights only intensifying the degree of contrast. I can’t explain how smitten I was before the first exchange of words was uttered.
And then I realized she had depth to her. She had a sole charred with years of constant smoke damage. Not the kind attributed to cigarattes, but the type that stems from years of being burned. She has had her heart ripped out, chewed up, and spit back out upon the ground beneath her more times than she can count. She understands pain. She empthasizes as well as sympathizes. She gets it. She gets what I go through. And I could sense that upon our initial meeting. And I could literally not get enough of her. She began to be all I thought about throughout the day. She was who I began to think about when I got tangled in the sheets with my significant other at the time, she was who I thought about when I touched myself, she was who I thought about the second I closed my eyes at night.
I was obsessed. I was infatuated. I was in lust.
But, it turned into more than that. I started to realize that maybe I just was not meant to end up with my girlfriend at the time. That perhaps we were soulmates in a different way than I was with this other woman. I know that I was extremely compatible with Mal, but was it a life-long til death do us part marriage kind of thing? Or was it more of a “i will always be in your life because I love you and I am your best friend no matter what” kind of situation? I took the leap of faith after three months of being back and forth in my head and went with the long shot. I took the chance of fucking my entire world–my entire future up because I saw potential in this other woman. She has everything to offer me. She treats me like a queen. She knows/understands/sees my flaws, but fails to acknowledge them as set backs. She pushes me in a motivational coach-like manner to WANT to change, to want to take baby steps towards being ‘normal’ again–not for her sake, but for mine. She is more than willing, as an honorable man, to support me indefinitely. But, she knows I am meant for more. She sees it everytime she looks at me–that I am, indeed, destined to work, to serve, to help others. I am not meant to waste away inside these four walls. I am meant for more than a domestic house-wife role has to offer. And she is intent on helping me to achieve that which I know I deserve, but am incapable of achieving on my own.
I am in love with this woman, but sometimes I just don’t like her. Sometimes, the crazy is so intense between the two of us (she is bipolar and I am borderline) that we have no choice but to destroy each other. We rip into the flesh of one another, taking the shots we can’t help but throw, hurting each other in ways that we know will cause irreparable harm to the other–becuase we do not know any other way of coping. We don’t know how to not hurt, and thus we do not know another way to not hurt the other. We are broken. We have been scarred. We have been torn to shreds by daily events for our entire lives. Neither of us are normal–neither of us are ok. And I’m not sure how to handle each and every day.
I wake up not knowing if I will be affectionate and/or in love that day. I dont’ know what her feelings towards me will be. I’m unsure. I burrow my head in the sheets that smell like she and I until I am ok. Until I am confident that I will not be alone in the morning. I woke up today to find her on the ground. I saw a trail of blood on the carpet. I saw her snuggling her stuffed animal–Waffles the White Seal, covered in nothing more than a meager threadbare blanket, in her own house. I was pushed into a wall. I was rejected when I attempted to hug/kiss her. I was berated until I felt nothing but failure. I was informed of how wonderful/funny/adorable her ex-gf was until I could not take anymore. So, instead of directly dealing with the situation I took the easy path out–I went upstairs, filled up the bathtub, read my book *(Gargoyle) and hoped that she would suck up her own insecurities and anger long enough to come talk to me so I could calm her down. I don’t want to hear a comparison to her ex. I want to be all she thinks about. For it’s been months since she was in a relationship with that other girl. I am funny. I am quirky. I am weird. I am clever as a fox. I am also incredibly intimidated by this woman. She is smart, sexy, funny, strong, etc. etc. I am nothing compared to her. Yet she continues to call me a piece of shit because I fucked my ex-gf one time out of sympathy. She and I were unofficial. We had dropped the label. And my girlfriend, the one I thought I would spend the rest of my life with…quite literally we had shopped for promise/engagement rings… informed me that she was incapable of being sexually satisfied by anyone other than me. She has told me this for longer than I have been into this other woman. But, this last time it was desperate. It was with tears in her eyes, with frustration in her voice, with desperation in her cries. I fucked her. I fucked her clincally and coldly and without a drop of romantic intentions. But, I have hell to pay for my actions–even if I was thinking of my future partner the whole time. It doesn’t matter. I am still shoved into walls as penance. I am still forced to cut off all communication with this ex-gf of mine–despite her being the ONE PERSON IN MY ENTIRE LIFE THAT I HAVE. I have no friends. Mostly by choice. I literally hate most people. And my crippling anxiety makes it almost impossible for me to meet and/or relate to anyone. I would rather sit here alone with my music, my guitar, my vodka and my movies than stress out for hours trying to force conversation between me and another entity.
I’m tired. Please know this. I am exhausted. I am in a destructive relationship at the moment. But, I keep being reassured that it’s only temporary. That once the pain from my recently terminated relationship extinguishes and disappears that I will be ok–that we will be ok. But, I can’t help but focus on the negative. Each night when I am serenaded by a “I hate you, but hold me.” I realize how difficult it must be to deal with me. I am the monster that I loathe in my girlfriend. I am the worst person that lives in this world. I love and I hate simulatenously. I deserve to die.