I am so confused. I am beyond confused. I'm a jumble of 'what the fuck?'
All I wanted last night was my things that he had so I could try to just get everything in order to try to reprogram myself that this is how things are now. I don't do too badly on my own really. It's lonely and no one wants to be alone. But it's not the end of the world. That was all I wanted, so I could try to start putting myself back together.
He's a wreck. He didn't want to bring me my stuff because he didn't think he could stand seeing me. The laughable part about it was I was actually doing alright. I had a rough morning yesterday (rough meaning my eyes were almost swelled shut after my not so peaceful 2 hours of sleep), but by night time I was kind of just accepting that this is how things were. I was fucking determined that I wasn't going to be some spineless sobbing bitch when he brought me my stuff either. I even put on my best voice while talking on the phone, just like nothing was wrong. And why shouldn't I, I'm not mad at him. There is no anger. I'm just hurting, no one ever died of a broken heart right? Anyhow back to the story at hand, he ends up bringing me my things while I'm at D's. I know something is up because he's been using the whipped puppy voice on the phone all day.
He looked horrible, I mean really horrible. Like someone died horrible.
I'm not going to go into our conversation in detail. As much as I would like to sit here and try to analyze what the fuck it all meant. In the end he doesn't know what he wants, but he knows it's not me. At least I think that is what I got out of what he said. but then again it seemed like he didn't know what he was saying either.
I'm such a sucker with no sense of self preservation. Anyone with half a brain and no heart would have sent him home. Not me, I brought him kleenex and let him cry on my shoulder. I hate to see him so unhappy over a choice he made, but in the end it was the decision he made. He decided he didn't want to be with me anymore and part of me just wants to scream that he shouldn't have the luxury of being miserable. I know that sounds weird, but I'm the one with the broken heart, not him. This is what he wanted, he didn't want to be with me so I certainly don't want his tears or his apologies.
That little voice that holds onto the tiny thread of hope in an unraveling coat says maybe he does love you because this is killing him, why is he taking it so hard that he hurt you, unless.............
but no. he doesn't. and I need to stop hoping that he might, now or in the future.
I want to help him. I want him to be happy with what he choose to do. I tried to hide how hard I was taking it. Which is impossible, because I just completely suck at that. I don�t think I can help him without hurting me. I made that choice last night. I should have sent him away but all I wanted to do was take care of him make him feel better. I can deal with my pain, if I'm hurt it's pretty much in my control. But if someone else I care for is hurting and I feel like it's my fault I just don't know what to do. If I just could have kept my composure when we broke up. Not broken down, just kept it all inside until he was gone, maybe he would feel like everything was ok.
If I keep telling myself I'll be fine then I will be fine. Right? I fucking hope so. Either that or I'll just become some depressed drunk until everyone either gives up on me or my liver does. Naw, not gonna happen that way.
I can't help but think what if he want me back. But honestly I couldn't trust him that this wouldn't happen again. I would hold back big time just in case I was going to get dropped on my ass again. We'd have to go back to square one, start all over to rebuild that trust. But it doesn't matter I suppose. I think that even if he came to the conclusion he'd made a huge mistake and he needed me in his life he would never take that step, just because he hurt me so badly he doesn't ever want to that again.
Chivalry is not dead...... though there are some parts of it that should be.