The past few weeks have been interesting to say the least. I'm still suffering in the aftermath of a less than decent breakup with someone. It wasn't the breakup that was so horrible, it was being left two weeks before my birthday and then being told "I want to be friends" yet, we barely speak. What else did I expect, though? You deal with someone's issues, and spend four and five hours at night, quite a few nights, trying to help someone sift through the garbage of their soul and you eventually turn into that garbage I suppose. That is exactly how I feel. Discarded, like trash.
I find myself crawling deep within myself, and at night, into my bed with nothing more than my pain and a bottle of whiskey. My bottle is my new best friend. I'm lonely. Sickeningly so. I seem to be unable to even attain the level of friend with this person. I'm merely a booty call nowadays. I'll never understand the workings of the male mind. Or at least not Dave's. How you can go from being told "I love you" & "I think we should start doing things with each other's families" in December to "I need my space" & "the relationship is just too stressful" in January...I will never know. I guess I'm still reeling from the shock. Everything happened so fast. Slowly, and then all at once, like madness. My heart is still broken. Every time he looks at me and I see that familiar nothingness in his eyes, another little piece of me cracks.
I did everything I could to save it. It obviously wasn't enough. Part of me thinks he's still mad at me about fucking Matt. At that point, he wouldn't even speak to me, so I guess I was at a loss as to what else to do to get his attention. It doesn't excuse it, but I figured that if it was all falling apart and he obviously hated me anyways, I might as well get some affection while I could. I'll never forgive myself for it. I'll carry the guilt to the grave. It just seems like I've lost a lot of people in the last few months. Eventually, I am certain I will be entirely alone again. This time I am prepared to combat this sorrow with whiskey. If I dont feel, I wont fall apart.
I finally had to admit to myself the other day that I was still broken-hearted. It is as though this was carefully orchestrated over a couple months, just to make me hurt. If it was, then I must give him props, because it worked beautifully. I notice these days when he talks to his other friends, he's more affectionate to them than he ever was to me. Period. Then, finally, today it hit me. I was right all along. He never really liked me much. I don't think he ever really wanted a relationship. I think he wanted a quick fuck. Mostly I think this, because that's all he wants nowadays. Bar hopping for a couple hours, some live music, and then my drunken ass naked for him to fuck and cum quickly in.
I feel naked inside. It's always like this after relationships for me, though. Stripped. Bare. Raw. Like someone has torn apart the flesh of me once again, carelessly, scrambled my insides, and then ground up my heart into a fine powdery dust. Then they handed it back to me and said "Put this back together"....as if it were possible.
I can't put it back together, damnit. I can't fix it and make it pretty again. I can drink this bottle of whiskey next to me, which is exactly what I'm going to do tonight. I'm going to drink this shit straight out of the bottle, fuck coke and ice. I want to feel the burn, and then, I want to feel numb. I wonder when I will figure out why I am always the one who gives everything she has in a relationship, only to be used up, and left with the loser's hand. Fuck this shit. I'm going to go drink the rest of my whiskey now. I hate love. I hate everything to do with it. I'm sick of this shit.