Prepare - this is a fairly emotional/sad entry. Dealing with my broken heart and stuff. Fuck this is so cliche. Sorry about this.
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Although I can't claim that I'm exactly mature... I do think I've matured a lot since I graduated high school, some five years ago. When I was younger, I thought that the more mature I became, the easier handling life would be. Dear fucking God, was I wrong.
When I was younger, the smallest thing rocked me up and out of my boat, and I would be sinking in seconds, unable to return to the surface for months. It didn't seem to matter what it was, or whether it was logical or not I was reacting this way. I just sunk down the the bottom, and thought to myself sarcastically, Woohoo, great. I love this part. Well, a part of me thought that at least. The other parts were immaturely screaming "IT'S NOT FAIR" and "I HATE MY LIFE" and "I WANT TO DIE." Et Cetera. I was pretty dramatic.
Nope, guess what? I'm lying to you! That's still my life. At least I can take comfort in knowing that I'm not this way because this is who I am; actually, I have major depression and some other sort of syndrome with a complicated name that causes me to have these break downs. It also includes a forgetful memory, extreme pain, minor psychosis, and other fun things. Woot. Alright, I don't actually take comfort in it, per se, but I'm happy to know what to call it, happy to know it's something that I can fight. I am a little disturbed to find out what it is, though - and putting names to things that happen to me (especially psychosis) have had the double effect of "yay it's not because I'm a horrible human being and am doing this all on purpose subconsciously" and "what the fuck, you mean someone can call my psychotic and they're going to be factually-fucking correct? Oh cuntburger, fuckfingers, cockbite, other ridiculous slurs."
I think I'm getting off topic. Sorry - it's just that only in the past two weeks have I really discovered exactly what I have, and it's been on my mind. I have to remember that things aren't always as bad as they seem; I just have a way with blowing things out of proportion in my mind.
What I was going to say is that working with this: dealing with bad things that happen to me hasn't gotten easier to deal with as I've grown more mature, only easier to fake being okay. The pain still hits the same. A disappointing realization.
Is this what it's like to be an adult? I have to pretend I am actually happy when inside I am drowning? It was hard enough to do in high school when the biggest hurt I felt was discovering a venomous rumor was circulating my school about me fucking other people's boyfriends (which was an odd and off-base rumor, as I only kissed one boy throughout my high school career and remained a virgin until the age of 20. I'm still wondering who came up with that shit). Now, I'm dealing with bigger issues. Broken hearts and sick grandparents, money issues and problems with the college system. Both ethereal and corporeal responsibilities I didn't think I'd have until I was 30.
I almost think that becoming more "mature" has had an actual negative effect on me mentally. Instead of being able to put my mind at ease by simply finding something to blame, I have this intense need to rationalize everything. I have to understand what the other person is thinking, feeling, and what exactly they are dealing with that could have caused this situation to occur in the fashion it has occurred. And then, because I have the need to blame someone to make this easier on myself but can not justifiably blame the other person, the blame falls to myself essentially making me the villain in my own story.
Never has this been clearer to me than recently. My ex found himself a new girlfriend. The guy who wasn't supposed to get another girl for a long time, because he's too fucking busy to do anything. How could he have wooed another girl when he barely had time for me when we were still in love and living together? What's worse is that he continued to call me his best friend afterwards, but then I found out through FACEBOOK that he was in a new relationship. I would later find out from his roommate and my best friend that they had been dating for MONTHS. Even long distance, when she was abroad for a couple of months. (Something he couldn't do with me when we were, again, still in love.) He didn't tell me. Not only am I still in love with the asshat so him being attached to another is painful, but I feel disrespected. Lied to by my best friend.
I am honestly not okay. I'm not okay in the least. I was gone for days, unable to do anything by cry. I couldn't even eat, and I was physically sick. Why? Why is something like this still so painful? Why can't I be mature enough to handle this like an adult?
I look for someone to be mad at so I can throw my pain in a direction and give it a name other than "hurt." But I can't bring myself to be mad at my ex. I think he was just trying to shield me from pain, doing what he always did and deciding what was right for me without my consent. I lived with him for three years, so I can claim to know his heart; I know he isn't a bad person who strives to hurt me. He could never do that. Unfortunately, for all his intelligence he is still an absolute idiot and has ended up hurting me worse than actually talking to me about this. It happened every time he tried to protect me, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised this situation turned out any different.
So I try to be angry with this new SLUT he's with - except from pictures she looks really pretty, and really nice. She hasn't done anything to me other than get with my ex. She doesn't even know me. She doesn't deserve my hatred. In a part of my heart, where the bitterness and pain hasn't exactly reached, I only hope that she takes care of him, and treats him well. He deserves someone amazing. I hope she's amazing.
So who do I blame? Who do I look to pin this pain on? I can only look to myself, and blame myself for not being stronger. If I was stronger, I could handle this. If I was stronger, I would have already moved on. If I was stronger, this wouldn't hurt.
I tell myself that this is ridiculous, and it couldn't possibly be my fault. I'm doing the best I can. But why do I have to understand everything so well? Why can't I just be mad? My childishness comes back out - and I yell internally. It's not fair. It's not fair I can't be mad at him. He's making me hurt, he's the reason for all my anguish. Why can't I just blame him? Why do I have to understand him? Why do I still have to love him, and respect him? It's not fair.
So I spiral down. I tell everyone else I'm fine. I laugh, I joke, I tease. Nothing is amiss except I'm too busy to hang out, or when I get together with friends I'm usually in the other room by myself playing video games or doing homework (a strangely acceptable action in my best friend's house, as it feels like I live there.)
I was hoping becoming mature would mean I would grow out of this.
At least I can say that I have learned to control myself somewhat. Two years ago even, I would not be as functional as I am today. I am improving in my handling of life, but the pain is no less painful.
But even then, I have greatly relied on my best male-friend. He's also my ex's roommate, which complicates things a bit. But he has let me lean on him. He is the only person I've really talked to about this. He's understood me, he's helped me, he's played games with me to distract me - even though we now live on different parts of the country. Strangely enough, he even seems to be on "my" side (whatever that means). He thinks my ex was being selfish for this and being inconsiderate for that. It's nice to have someone who really knows the situation say things like that, even if I can't really believe it myself.
Without him, and without another friend who was content to just exist next to me and not talk about it so I wasn't alone... who knows how I would actually be right now. Maybe it's not even my maturity level, but the people I've surrounded myself with? Either way, I'm very grateful to them.
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I want to leave this place. I live in fucking paradise yet all I want to do is leave. I'm a social person by nature, but all I want to is be alone and go to places where no one knows me.
I wish I had the courage to fuck some random guy. I hear things like that help to take your mind off a past lover. But I know I would never do it - kiss them, maybe. But nothing else. My inner horn-dog is so disappointed. Blah.
New strategy - get super hot, and rub it in my ex's face. That's the bitter-ex-gf I'm supposed to be acting like. And I think that is a fairly neutral strategy that could only be helpful for me and doesn't actually do anything mean to him. The mature-est of the immature actions, right? Yeah. Let's do it.
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but you can skyrocket away from me
and never come back if you find another galaxy
far from here with more room to fly
just leave me your stardust to remember you by~
-Boats and Birds
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