forthebook's Diaryland Diary

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heartache

So it's over now.

Still surreal. I'm still clinging, clawing, frantically reaching out for that little piece of hope that is getting back together. I haven't told anyone, or barely anyone, anyway. A few close friends who have seen me at my lowest and would have known anyway by my slightly puffy eyes, the way I say his name with yearning, or the sadness that follows me around and taints my very actions. You couldn't tell otherwise. I see him everyday. All my free time goes to buying him those small unnecessities of life or painting a bathroom in his parent's house or tagging along with the boys or writing Japanese character assignments over and over and over while he studies for a test. He spends the night at my house, curled next to me in his corner of the bed - and I cry when he suggests that he sleep on the floor instead, it'll be better for the both of us - and then I pull my blankets down to the roughness of the carpet and sleep nestled up next to him like a cat when he does it anyway.

He doesn't want to put in the effort it takes to be in a relationship anymore. That was the official statement. It perplexes me even now. I don't understand it. He loves me, he tells me I was the best he's ever had, he wants so badly to end up with me and I'm the only one he wants in any way. But he doesn't feel like putting in the effort anymore. Maybe it just hurts so much because I don't understand it. How can both of those things exist?

Parts of me, the very irate parts, chalk it up to selfishness. Those parts of me know that what he means is that I nagged at him for couple time too often, even though we spent insane amounts of time with just his friends. He means that he wants to do what he wants without having obligations to me chiding him for the excessive drinking and the drug usage and the late nights dancing with random and not so random girls at clubs and the idling his days away without care nor worry to either responsibility or obligation. He means that he wants to do these things in Japan without having to call me when he gets in everynight. The parts of me still seething rage at the pointlessness of this breakup know those things.

The rest of me still blames myself for not being good enough to keep him around despite all of those desires he has. Those other hesitant parts still insist that if I was just a better girlfriend (by that I mean more accomodating, better skilled, prettier, thinner, more lenient, less insecure, more patient, more like him), then he would have stayed.

And the comments have started trickling in from those few who know. Stop, they tell me. Stop before he hurts you more because it isn't fair to you. That's what they always say, apparently I have a knack for finding the type of guys who always do murder to me in the end. He's using you, they say, because he knows you'll be there and you'll wait. They say he's playing the field, or will, and that I'm better than this. Better than what? That's what I always think as they lecture me over lunches and cups of coffee and 2am phone calls filled with fretful tears. What am I supposed to be better than? If I was better than anything, I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

Sick that I was thinking of breaking up with him for the same reasons - because I didn't think he would put in the effort after he leaves the States.

And what's sicker is that the thing I'm afraid of most right now is the backlash from those evil people who have the gall to say mean things about the breakup. My exfriend with the poison tongue and a tendancy to spread rumors. His exgirlfriend who nearly broke us up before I drove her completely out of his life. I've been having nightmares where he chooses her over me, not as a partner but just as a friend - because that's all I am too now, an ex and a friend. Stupid, shallow, petty people who I know will have a field day at my misfortune. I wish I was better that THAT.

I just wish that I could work this out. I love him, I do and I know he still cares. I just don't see what's so horribly wrong with doing what you have to do for a relationship to work.

9:43 a.m. - 2005-08-11

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