how gay. this is reposted from nexopia because I didn't want to lose it and nex is too public for this sort of thing.
I wasn't going to blog about this. I really wasn't.
as much as I think I'm okay, as much as I sit and pretend to laugh and smile and act like everything's fine, I know there's that little rolled up bit of hurt that's waiting for an idle moment. I need things to distract me. I'm so afraid of the little times in the day where I don't have tv or the computer or people to take my mind away from how very wrong this feels. it's not like normal hurt. it's the kind where you can't feel a plausable end to it - it's going to keep resurfacing and being reopened like a scab that won't heal.
four days. it took me four days to get this attached? how ridiculous.
I can't let myself be happy knowing you aren't. or maybe you are, who knows. I thought I knew one thing for sure, I had stable ground for once. but that fell out under my feet, didn't it? I don't know the difference between what's believable and what's not anymore. I know if you told me right now, if you called me and told me you loved me I would believe you. maybe that's a mistake, maybe it was all along. even though as much as I want to believe that, I can't. how could anyone look at us as a mistake? and we were, we were an "us". maybe that's part of the hurt. knowing we had something, even for a stupidly short time. we had a beginning, no middle, and a bad ending.
it was too short, too stunted, too much emotion for two people, I think.
I'm doing an awful job, this isn't making any sense and sounds rather stupid, I think.
I wasn't going to blog about this. I really wasn't.
as much as I think I'm okay, as much as I sit and pretend to laugh and smile and act like everything's fine, I know there's that little rolled up bit of hurt that's waiting for an idle moment. I need things to distract me. I'm so afraid of the little times in the day where I don't have tv or the computer or people to take my mind away from how very wrong this feels. it's not like normal hurt. it's the kind where you can't feel a plausable end to it - it's going to keep resurfacing and being reopened like a scab that won't heal.
four days. it took me four days to get this attached? how ridiculous.
I can't let myself be happy knowing you aren't. or maybe you are, who knows. I thought I knew one thing for sure, I had stable ground for once. but that fell out under my feet, didn't it? I don't know the difference between what's believable and what's not anymore. I know if you told me right now, if you called me and told me you loved me I would believe you. maybe that's a mistake, maybe it was all along. even though as much as I want to believe that, I can't. how could anyone look at us as a mistake? and we were, we were an "us". maybe that's part of the hurt. knowing we had something, even for a stupidly short time. we had a beginning, no middle, and a bad ending.
it was too short, too stunted, too much emotion for two people, I think.
I'm doing an awful job, this isn't making any sense and sounds rather stupid, I think.
1 comment | Leave a comment
