I deleted the post I reserved for the first day of school (sophomore year in college). I don’t even remember much of it anymore, and any memories of it that do exist seem petty.
Everything seems so irrelevant, so worthless, now that my world is crashing down.
The first time I made a boy my world, it didn’t go so well. When the dream ended, I cried for days, weeks, months, years. I was suicidal at first.
The second time I made a boy my world, it lasted longer than the first one, and (of course) felt real, it felt different, it felt amazing. It’s always like that isn’t it? That is the magic of a relationship; it creates such an amazing atmosphere and it leaves you feeling almost invincible, as if “love conquers all.” We have been falling apart piece by piece for a long time but I finally decided to end it yesterday night because it has just gone too far, and I don’t even know what’s left of us. Will I cry for days, weeks, months, years? I can only guess that yes, I will. I did say I made him my world, didn’t I? God, when I dare to think about a single memory of us, tears are automatic. They come on cue. Never miss a beat. How much did I love him? I promised him I would never have eyes for any other person in the world if he treated me right. That’s a huge promise, and I realize maybe it’s just too much, but honestly, that’s how I feel. I was committed to having him be the only love I would ever have in my life from that point onwards if he treated me well. I never grew bored. I never wanted to look for someone better. I never turned him away even when he made mistakes or hurt me. I was happy whenever I was with him. I always wanted to make him happy. I trusted him with my mind, body, soul. That’s how much I loved him.
But maybe I was the one who made a mistake. Did I give my trust to the wrong person, again?
There is a difference between now and the past, though. The first time I went through all of this, I was a little girl, who never knew what heartbreak was and only saw all of the beautiful things laid out in the future. Of course I was as heartbroken as I was, and of course I grew suicidal. It was all new, it was the only thing I knew, it was inevitable for me to break down so much after the dream came to a sudden halt. Right now, three to four years later, I feel just as heartbroken, but I don’t feel suicidal like I once did. It’s as if growing up a little slowly built this mechanism for me. It’s like a barrier that keeps growing stronger as I grow older. I don’t even know what kind of barrier it is. Yes, it’s protecting me from doing anything stupid, but it’s also turning me towards isolation, coldness, isolation.
What kind of note did we end on? I told him to come back to me when he stopped being so weak, when he would finally step up, when he would finally be a real man, not a coward who was selfish. He told me he would come back, but here is the truth.
I don’t think he’s ever coming back. To be so weak as that…is it really possible to change it all so fast? You are who you are. Yes, you can change, but change is difficult when you already have a predisposition. Yes, maybe it can happen to the most determined of people, but I don’t believe that he is. He’s full of words, full of promises, but never acts on them. If our dying relationship wasn’t a reason enough to take initiative and save it, what makes it any different now? Maybe he’ll try now that we are seriously over forever if we leave everything the way it is right now? So many doubts…can that even happen? What IF that DID happen? It took all of this to shape up? It took crushing my spirit until I didn’t want to continue our relationship anymore? Is it possible for love to even lie behind all of that?
When I turn these thoughts over in my head, I come to the very high possibility that this is it. This could be the end of us forever. When I first deluded myself by thinking I would have him back someday and everything would be okay, it didn’t feel so devastating. Then when I stopped trying to hide behind that delusion, I realized this could be the end of everything we ever had and ever will have. And it stings like nothing else in this world. This could be the end. At that point I’m in tears again. Hard, pitiful, choking sobs.
And then I ask, why?
Hell, I am miserable. I don’t even feel like going to the university I have already paid $39,000 for. It all feels worthless because to be honest with you, I don’t care what I end up doing if I can spend my life with the one I love. That’s all I ask for. But that’s so damn abstract, it’s not concrete enough, it’s never guaranteed. I can work hard for it, I can devote my life to someone, but doesn’t guarantee anything. That doesn’t guarantee they’ll do the same for me. That doesn’t guarantee they will reciprocate the same amount and intensity of love and devotion. The only concrete thing in my life is this formula: be successful in school + search for work experience = get a career to keep economically stable during these hard times. Education = career. Work = Money. That is all that is guaranteed. I hate it.