"If you wanted me, I wouldn't have to guess."
Yep.
Weird thing was, it wasn’t even a whole “getting through my armour” type thing. With him there simply was no armour. It was just us, side-by-side, laughing.
When I realized what was going on, I had a moment of “What the fuck?” I must be malfunctioning. And yet it simultaneously felt like something about me had started working. It had never been broken, just not activated.
I’m not good by the bright light of day. I feel I am more acceptable to men when it’s night, there are drinks, and I am somehow more… just more. By day light I think it’s easy to forget about me. Write me off. See how I don’t fit in at all with their real lives. That all the emotions felt or hinted at were made of puffs of smoke that dissipate in the sunlight.
Did you know people are discardable? I am often that person. The one who grabs the drinks, and knows when to bow out. Or be interesting enough until something else comes along. What am I made of is not the same thing as everyone else? What about me is less tangible?
No one has ever really pursued me, or fought to have me, or tried to keep me. The few men I have been with were passing gents, or men who were mere boys, playing along until something worth their attention came along. I remember one time a boyfriend trying to define things between us. I tensed, I was unwilling to compromise or be pressured to define things, and so he left. I don’t know what I was not willing to define anymore. But I felt it I made it official, it would hurt me, so I packed it up in a little box and ignored it. Maybe we could have had something. Instead I have nothing.
I am uncomfortable with comfort. I want so badly to have something familiar and loving, and yet, terrified of the chance it could end, I erect a wall. I refuse connection as adamantly as I desire it. And so messed up in my idea of self-worth.
I hate staring at my phone hoping for a small cute text. I hate sending them with the expectation you will GET IT, and love me for it. I hate thinking it progresses anything instead of just irritating you. I hate that very few and far between do you respond, making me cringe that its 5 from me, 1 from you. I hate that I continue to do it. I hate that it makes me look psychotic, but I can’t stop it. I hate that I want it to mean more but am only good and fucking everything up. I hate that before anything has really started, I’m assuring its end.
I want someone to ask questions about me. To wonder about me. To want the best for me. To show that they’re thinking of me. To actually to something to assure they will be with me. But instead it’s all grey. And it stands out clear in that swirl of unclarity.
So you’re with someone. Even if you feel the marriage is over. You are currently part of a couple. And me? I’m just kinda standing over here in a limbo. Feelings wrapped up in you, but wanting to be wanted. What am I doing? Waiting? Being unattainable?
There’s pain there. In you. Is that what I am drawn to? What would I say to him? What will I say?
I’m scared by how much we clicked. That you are married to someone else. That I finally felt it. That I am terrified it will never happen again for me. It puts a stark contrast to being alone from coming so close to having had the one you fit so well with.
There’s a distinction between the right person and the right relationship —
they aren’t the same thing. The right relationship won’t ask you to sacrifice
parts of yourself.
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