to love for the hope of it all

[[[i think i’ve finally spotted the big disconnect; and i suppose i should have really put my finger on it earlier. thinking back i think i did but in a much less meaningful way.

the intimacy of knowing someone scares you. and even more, the intimacy of them knowing you. i know understand why you can’t pinpoint what feelings you do hold for me: they change. they change from platonic in almost all cases to sexual / romantic when it’s superficial or leading to bed. it thus makes complete sense that i feel the opposite – a constant romantic feeling between us, because i feel that for you.

i don’t think you’ve ever had the privilege of really knowing and loving someone. knowing what’s wrong with them and still loving them. being inconvenienced by them but still adoring them.

i remember telling you once, in a fit of frustration, that the reason you liked maintaining the long distance relationship halfway across the world was the lack of responsibility and intimacy – you don’t really know or owe her anything, and she doesn’t really know or owe you anything. that’s your safety blanket. no accountability or risk of the person discovering what’s wrong with you.

from the beginning, things have been different between us. we’ve gotten along so well on both a platonic and a romantic level, because i force you out of that comfort zone. probably most days, i test a previous boundary you’ve placed with people.

it’s obviously not as simple as one specific factor that has caused the confusion between us – but i believe this plays a big role in your ability to determine your feelings for me. i’m not always an easy person to have in your life; but the benefits you reap are significantly greater than the effort. i think you know that, quite well, and that’s why we always end up back at the same place.

i can’t force you to be alright with intimacy. i’ve been trying for the past few years and it’s actually led to imagined intimacy with others (i’m still getting over the admission of puerile thoughts of somebody else). as i’ve said in the past – in return for my patience and vulnerability i fear i get punished for creaking open the door while not being allowed to venture inside once there.

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i think at the very worst, i will serve as an important life lesson to you, and be responsible for a lot of personal growth you end up choosing to go through.

i, selfishly, hope you do it while still in my company so i don’t have to let you go.

while i may not completely trust you again yet, i’ve made the decision to try. to decide to still be here.

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i was once at the ‘love’ part of the title of this blog – holding so many feelings for you that i didn’t really need to hope. that no matter what, i would find a way through it for our sakes.

i’m not there anymore. which is probably a much, much, healthier mindset for both of us. i’m at the hoping stage. i’m hoping that you can meet me in a new middle place that works for both of us; and if not, then that’s that.]]]

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i don’t like that this is written as almost a direct letter to a.b.s., because well this is my journaling blog and should be about me. i would add some well-crafted line about being interwoven and thus unable to separate my feelings about him from myself – but that’s not really true. i choose to do this. i choose to care about him. i choose to trust him. [i really am trying, but will need more than just a dream-like week and a few phone calls to believe that there is a change.]

i saw a post a few days ago:

no, we’re not soulmates. this is not divine intervention. and this is most certainly not chance. i willed this. i knit the threads of fate myself until they spelled your name. i love you intentinally. i love you with every bit of conscience i was born with.

i do not relate to the intensity of the words. but i do undertand them.

after a number (three to be exact) of meaningful, long-term relationships that all ended in a similar way, the lesson i’ve truly learn from them is that love isn’t the only thing you need.

feelings for a person do not sustain a relationship, it merely begins one.

you have to choose the person you’re with: even if it’s not always convenient, even if it’s sometimes hard, even if you don’t always want to – you must. (at least, when it comes to me.)

it’s easy to like somebody for a few weeks or months, but staying with them, consistently, is a far greater commitment. having other options but choosing one person is what matters.

feelings must be present. an absolute non-negotiable.

i often doubt whether or not i actually had feelings or loved the people i ended up leaving; perhaps as my own safety mechanism; – the truth is that i did. the cruel reality is that i loved these men, and still made the decision to leave them. the even worse actuality is that they all loved me to; but it wasn’t enough.

by the end they loved me the way you love your childhood toy that you know isn’t going anywhere off your shelf in your bedroom. the way you love the disc you’ve kept of your favourite video game on a console that you got rid of years ago. the way you have arguments with your parents as a teenager knowing that they’ll forgive you for anything you do because they love you. – i had become such a given that they forgot that they were supposed to appreciate it.

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l.c. was fifteen with no real concept of love. and while he really tried at times, i was a fifteen year old who really wanted to feel loved by someone who didn’t even know where to start. he played on my insecurities when it pleased him, changing his opinion based on who he was taking to (as all teenagers are prone to doing). i hope he’s well.

p.n. was twenty falling for a wild and free version of me that never truly existed. being vulnerable with him felt like admitting that i would not be fit to be his wife and mother his children, something i desperately craved. my unceremonious disposal was uncalled for, and yet entirely avoidable if he had taken my pleas of real intimacy seriously. more than anything, i craved him, with all of his flaws and issues; but i could not bring myself to believe he truly wanted me. i don’t know if it ever felt like he did really know me. we both yearned for an ideal life together without thinking about whether or not it could actually work, hoping our feelings would take us there (they didn’t). i don’t know if i miss him or simply the version of myself i was with him – perhaps both. i wish him the utmost happiness and love possible.

j.d. was twenty two and never really wanted to love me. from the beginning, i should’ve seen the warning signs. i should’ve taken the words of a damaged man to heart instead of swearing i could fix him. he loved me for what i could offer him: an escape from his reality. despite knowing me most intimately, and even at times adoring me for it, to do it consistently ended up being impossible. putting in the effort, for my sake, did not seem doable. it was a mistake from top to bottom; but a really good lesson (that i don’t seem to have fully learnt) that not all battles are worth fighting. sometimes you can’t help someone.

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i contemplate sometimes about how i’ll reflect on a.b.s. after all is said and done and the dust settles. i used to be obsessed with how people perceived me after the fact, hoping above all that it was positive and i was missed; because it must be nice to be missed. that’s no longer the case. no one leaves a situation unscattered. no one walks away unharmed.

i think willing to risk the pain for somebody is what love is supposed to be about.

i’m sat around sunrise on a terrace in bodrum with a.b.s.. while this could be the pinnacle of romance and co-existence, i just wonder what i want for myself.

having guests in turkey was nice, but being around everyone for that long reminds me that i don’t really feel i relate or even at times, like them. i don’t think there’s a single night since he came that a.b.s. has been sober. i wonder if he was getting drunk every night in south korea. i know the answer.

this year’s trip is leaving me with the same feeling as last – a genuine questioning of why the fuck i’m friends with the people i am when i never feel like they care about me. i think the reality with my feeling of never being really considered or taken into account is that the people i’m supposed to be closest to do not really care about me. i can’t tell if a.b.s. does. i’m left feeling like i need a new life all over again. like i need to just start from zero and build up because the current situation cannot be the pinnacle.

i feeling i can’t separate the difference between an actual issue and me thinking that i’m sabotaging things again. drinking is a problem. i’ve rarely before complained about a.b.s.’s drinking – although i suppose that isn’t entirely true: his unreliability often stems from his altered state of mind. i often think that when things are going well between us i find a new issue to hone in on and put myself in a position to decide all over again whether it’s something i find worth it. is this just another example of it? or has he simply fallen asleep one too many times whilst on top of me to ignore anymore?

i don’t think i’ve looked at him yet this morning. he’s sat directly facing the sun and i’m not sure i can bear being annoyed if i do look at how it’s reflecting on his skin and hair. i don’t know whether to bring something up or not.

i interrupt my reading to take another look at my soulmate reading i received on etsy some time last year that lives on my desktop screen. i don’t know whether that’s made me feel better or worse.

while i do want to debrief and delve into the changes so far in my life, i’ve felt the need to write right now for a reason.

i believe it’s a full moon tonight, beautiful as ever. it’s my third day in bodrum this year, having flown in directly from london on monday morning. i’m expecting company from friends this weekend to enjoy the holiday. these are all facts.

i feel lonely. that’s another fact. it feels like another year where i just wish i have people, or i guess more specifically, someone, to share things with. the reality is that i have unanswered messages and calls i could respond to, but none of it feels fulfilling. i’m not sure that any time spent on the phone feels fulfilling anymore. it feels like nobody is as curious as i am about other people. i don’t feel that anybody in my life is trying to form a particularly meaningful connection with me as of late.

i sit here staring at the moon, grateful to be away from my family in the house over, messages left ignored. i feel like i’m waiting for something that has no intention of coming. like i’m permanently stuck in a state of stand by waiting for something to break me out of it and make me feel like a real human being, but the thing doesn’t exist. no one can really do that for me besides myself; i’m aware of that.

i reckon that’s why i’ve always adored the idea of a family and children – permanent additions / fixtures of life that remain at your side because they have to. i’ve never met a man that made me feel confident in his ability to form a partnership with me, i think it’s always felt unequal. i don’t know that i’ve ever felt like a.b.s. and i are on equal playing fields. i think it’s always felt like he’s keeping me at arm’s length no matter how hard i try. psychology would say that’s why i continue to entertain the situation, whatever it has become at this point.

i’ve been made a promise that i don’t know whether he intends to keep. i think i keep hoping he’s going to turn around and be ready for a relationship – but i don’t think that’s happening anytime soon. for someone who wants something stable and long-standing, i have a penchant for unpredictable men. i suppose that really is because of my father. or even just my family. never really knowing what to expect and being happy when i’ve guessed correctly or done a number of acts in a secretly correct sequence that makes them proud of me.

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i think ultimately i just want life to stop feeling so difficult. i think that’s my real worry with loneliness as well, because i do enjoy the peace and quiet. i want someone that wants to make things easier for me – that wants to make sure i’m okay and play an active part in making things i find hard, simpler. i’ve never met a man that made me feel that way. relationships really only add issues onto things as you tend to have expectations for a person (even if you promise you’re trying not to), that they can disappoint.

i wish a.b.s. were more communicative. i understand that it’s the price of the importance of his independence, but i wish my difficulty with it were taken into account even slightly because i’m the one who always finds myself compromising. i’d love to be met halfway one day. i don’t think i’ve ever met a man who made me feel that way either – like they genuinely wanted to meet me somewhere in the middle.

as i say this – a.b.s. responded to the images i sent of the full moon with a standard text about the ability to see it in england too. he’s just never quite as curious as i want him to be. i don’t know whether to reply or simply call him, or show my distaste for his banal text by ignoring it – i’ll probably call in half an hour.

i just don’t ever feel like people are actually curious about me as a person. as an individual. like anyone is ever interested in why i act the way i act, or what i think about things, or even just about what i’d like in the moment. i suppose my family do in some way, when it comes to taste in food, but it always feels so superficial. it’s a tiny speckle of who i actually am as a person. am i not interesting enough? do i not deserve it as a person?

it perpetually feels like i’ve done something wrong in my life to deserve punishment – not enough to be able to openly lament, for if i were to express my loneliness or unhappiness when in situations that, by all means, seem perfect, i’m being ungrateful. and perhaps i am. it just feels like no matter how much i try, i always fall short of deserving what i want. in my wiser and less melancholic times, i would say that it might just be a sign of wanting the wrong things, but right now, i just wonder why it never happens.

i fight so hard for things that don’t even end up serving me well by the end. all i get for attempting things is disappointment.

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i remember the name of this blog to pull me out of whatever mood i’m currently in. the whole point of life is to hope and try. hope for good things and try to make them happen. try to always find a way to hope for good. remember that no matter what, it’s better to try than to not.

(i’m ringing a.b.s., who in fact, did not answer.)

it’s always better to keep trying. and to keep hope for better times. if not, what is the point of staying alive.

things can always change (as it is, after all, inevitable; so they will anyway), and they can always get better. it’s completely within my hands to do so. i get so enthralled in the idea of fate and the universe and destiny – that i do believe in and somewhat abide by regardless, that i also forget that to receive things, i have to openly want and ask for them. i need to put myself in a situation to receive them. otherwise, they do not know to find me. closed mouths don’t get fed.

birthday eve eve! (friends reference)

this will probably be my last post as a twenty-five year old. what a fucking year it’s been. ups and downs and i can barely remember what has actually happened since. it’s just a mess of emotion.

i’m sad at the moment, so this will be a sad post; with probably very little attempt to make myself feel better (although hope always seems to grow through the cracks when i start writing). i haven’t written in a long time (end of april) because i’ve been trying to ignore really dwelving into my feelings. i think they would be long overdue and it always seems like too much to deal with. i got sidetracked by a reminder about a post i wrote exactly a year ago following my birthday trip to brighton; and how i reached the conclusion that i needed different friends – i fear this year’s post doesn’t offer much more of interest.

while i think recent conversations with a.b.s. have been particularly anxiety-inducing, i actually believe that my general sense of dread and built up resentment is towards most everything else in my life. i’ve been living with the feeling of unfulfillness for a long while now, pretending that i can’t feel the borders of my loneliness suffocating me. not much that i do actually feels like enough. interactions with friends are fun in the moment but end up lackluster, as do familial conversations. i feel like i’m acting out a script that is poorly rewritten every single day.

my body has never felt more tight and uncomfortable. i feel constantly on edge and waiting for bad things to happen, which i feel impacts me negatively physically. i’m going to book a deep tissue massage in the morning because while i’ve been putting it off, my body has been suffering the consequences (my jaw is in a constant state of dull pain).

none of my friends feel like they’re serving me anymore. it feels like i’m living the life of someone i used to be and never really wanted for myself – only events planned are alcohol-based, sitting around a familiar table rehashing conversations. i’ve stopped putting as much effort into relationships that had already been declining and while i no longer face the rejection i used to, i just don’t receive or feel anything (for the most part).

joy seems only available to me in fleeting moments that i cannot ever choose to create myself. for the very least, my nervous system has been in a state of panic for the last twenty four hours (and i would guess, much more than that). it truly feels like i’m waiting for the end of the world to arrive at the moment (- it isn’t).

[ i took a pause from writing to search up ways to regulate my nervous system, leading me to vagus nerve stimulation, and finally how to perform a carotid sinus massage in an attempt to do so. while i suspect it is a simple placebo effect, it actually do feel more relaxed – i’m still booking the massage tomorrow morning ]

ultimately, i feel what i need is to let go of most everything in my life, which is about as daunting as it sounds. i want a full reinvention. a reset. i will make strides to do so this year and hopefully have a much happier message for myself next year.

i’ve gotten too comfortably tired to keep writing or reflecting lol. i may write tomorrow if i feel the need; but i kind of hope i don’t.

untethered. that’s how i feel. i thought it was best described as numbness, but i think it’s untetheredness. a never-ending transitionary phase where i feel unmoored. i feel disconnected from others as well as myself, and i keep using technology to avoid feeling it, hoping that artificial simulation will help. it doesn’t. not really.

my main communications are with my mother and a very confusing, unpredictable man, if you set aside people i play video games with online.

i don’t think having a genuine emotional reaction to ‘message in a bottle’ by the police is considered normal.

i’m going through the motions of living without really feeling like i am. i’m alive, i suppose, but not living. i don’t feel like a person. i feel like a failing trial if anything.

for a.b.s., i’m not sure i want you to read it though my love. i don’t want you to think of me as a bad person.

it’s 2 am. i’m in bed but my mind is elsewhere. my mind is on the freckle under your left shoulder blade on your back, and whether or not you’ve slept enough recently. my mind is on if you’ve gotten a chance to talk about your grief while also managing everyone else’s, and whether you’ve thought of me at all.

i find myself torn between being understanding and being selfish, even if just for show. i understand why we’ve not spoken this week; that doesn’t change that i wish we had. doesn’t change that i wish that even when things are difficult for you, i’m on your mind. i don’t know if this week has proved that i’m not, or that even if i am you have difficulty reaching out; but i don’t think it makes a difference.

it doesn’t even really make a difference if you texted her in south korea more often than you texted me, because the reality maintains that we barely spoke. i both do and don’t have a right to feel the way i do. maybe a right to feel it but not to share it – i haven’t decided yet.

i don’t even know how you feel at the moment. i don’t know if you’re grieving or just worried about getting back to work (although, i do know of course because i know you. do you know me?).

this feels like a good space to share feelings that i probably won’t express to you. people tell me i should be angry. people tell me that this should be the final line in the story of us. i’m not angry. i just wish you would feel comfortable being yourself with me. i love you.

i’m not saying that i’m in love with you.

i’m not sure i know what that feels like, really. nor do i plan on unpacking that all right now. i don’t think i really know as much as i like to think i do. i just know i care about you; and i want you to care about me as well.

i know you do. but i wish you’d find a way to do it in a way that feels real for both of us. your ‘own special way’ only matters if the message you’re trying to get across reaches me.

[the song message in a bottle by the police popped into my head earlier while writing this post and has been stuck in my head since]

i’m just a little upset. i’m worried about you. i miss you. i hope i’m on your mind.

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while simultaneously feeling these things, i also feel guilty for not being able to table my insecurities and anxieties for your sake. is that what people are supposed to do? i hate myself for not being able to give you space to process what you need to alone. i hate that i can’t be what you ‘want’ me to be. i hate that you find it so difficult to stay in touch and update me. do i not cross your mind at all?

i’ve been sleep deprived this week busying my brain with worries about how you are, and trying to deal with my seemingly endless internal dialogue (this doesn’t even cover part of it unfortunately). i think i just needed to vent, in a way that doesn’t involve me hearing that i should let you go, because i still really don’t want to. i’m sorry if that’s what you want from me. the thought that you do really upsets me. i’m terrified that after getting to know me so well, you’ve decided you don’t like what you see. that’s why i don’t usually let people in like i have you. maybe i shouldn’t have.

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goodnight ariana, get some rest. it always does you a world of good. i love you.

i have a lot to write about.

i don’t particularly feel like going into all of it right now, as a lot of it is layered with feelings and thoughts i have yet to completely work out, but i have some initial, pertinent ones to share now.

i started watching parks and recreation again and have been reminded of how nice it is to have hope in the world. how lovely it is to approach life with a clear mindset on how you plan to achieve your goals, and how much work it requires (that isn’t necessarily boring or mindnumbing). leslie knope manages to find a way to get everything that needs to be done in a day (and more), while maintaining a positive attitude and a unwavering belief in herself.

those are the things i feel i have lost. i find general, basic tasks in the day uninteresting (at the moment especially) and like a waste of time, without replacing that time with anything useful – there are a million activities / hobbies i was hoping to do in the free time i find myself enjoying, but i have yet to tackle any. i don’t watch new films or shows alone. i eat the same things on repeat when dining alone. i find no joy in a clean environment unless accompanied. i don’t feel like i’m living for myself at the moment. i think i barely feel like i’m living at all.

i was making such good strides in not centering my life around other people (so i thought) but without my friendships to tether myself, my life sorta just revolves around nothing.

i don’t feel i have any ambition left. which i really hate about myself at the moment. i’ve always been ambitious; i’ve always had things i wanted to achieve and more than that, a plan on how to achieve them. i assume it must be because i achieved all of the short term things i had planned on achieving: getting into mcgill, moving to canada, living in montreal, spending time with nana and stepan dede, graduating, moving to london, studying law; all while pursuing my larger goal of an eventual family with children (as i was non-stop in relationships during that entire time).

now – while i know that my goals are to pass my bar, start working and form a meaningful relationship; they feel so much more abstract. i don’t feel i know how to achieve the things i want to do; or even more than that, if i have what it takes in me to achieve them.

the goal of making significant friendships comes to mind: while i do want to make new friends that will enrich my life with interesting conversation and activities – it doesn’t always feel like i can do that without walking away from my current group of friends, which feels really difficult.

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it turns out it’s harder to restart at 25 than it is at 18. i didn’t really know that 😦

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my love life is a large question mark with no sign of resolution besides having to walk away from someone i care about. i’ve become so focused with the importance of romance in my life that it feels sometimes like i’ve just fully forgotten there’s more to life. i’ve spent all of mine thinking of other people and how to help them and serve them and fit into their life that i forgot to think about what i wanted for mine. when i think about what i want, it only really concerns other people – a husband who loves me, kids i can take care of, friends who like spending time with me, a job that makes me enough money to be financially stable enough to pay for things for people. none of that is actually concerning me. it’s not that i’m healthy. or happy. or successful. or wealthy (for my own sake). or anything that’s really in my control.

all of the goals i want to achieve (that i name at the moment) are not in my full control, and it makes their pursuit so much more difficult. mcgill and moving to montreal was for me. everything in montreal was for me. moving to london was for me. i don’t know if studying law feels like it is; i remain unsure on my own reasoning for choosing the field most of the time. is thinking you’d be good at something enough reason to pursue it? is hoping you can make some form of change, mostly in order to feel like your life has meaning, enough reason?

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i think the truth is that since meeting a.b.s., someone i feel really compatible with, i find it hard to remember to prioritise anything but love. it’s all i’ve ever wanted. just to feel loved, truly. never getting it from him gives me something to ‘pursue’, to ‘chase’ – which while i hate doing, i suppose is the only thing i really know how to do; going for what i want.

my future career scares me. failing my exam again scares me. needing to restart with someone entirely and opening up to them and everything all over again, with the risk of being ‘wrong’ like i was in the past scares me. the continuing rejection i face with a.b.s. is familiar; and i wonder if that’s the only reason i stick to it sometimes. some filthy need for approval from someone else. a disgusting need for validation from someone that doesn’t know how to give it.

i’m good at surrounding myself with people who make me feel just enough to get through the day until i realise i want more and attempt to ‘restart’ my life, leaving them in the past. when they stop serving that purpose, i tell myself that i’ve outgrown them with all of the progress i’ve made, disproportionately to the way that they’ve evolved. i think the truth is that i know people only really like me for a short amount – or do i like them only for that amount until the veil finally lifts itself and i see them for who they are rather than who i want? i don’t know anymore. people like me when i’m palatable, easy – easy to handle, easy to use, easy to hurt. i serve a purpose then.

i don’t know that i am aware of who i am when i’m not simply trying to prove a purpose to someone else. i worry it’s the only thing i know how to do.

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i know that my continuation here should be hopeful about my ability to change myself for the better and ‘rediscover’ who i am and everything else that self help books preach. but right now at least, at almost 1 am on a random tuesday/wednesday, i’m not capable of doing so.

all i can think about right now is wonder about where i’ve gone ‘wrong’ to get to here right now. i don’t know a version of me who hasn’t prioritised other people, even as a young child – a version that didn’t try to appease all of the adults growing up, doing anything to ease their lives; a version who didn’t bake for every birthday in high school in order to make closer friends and seek validation from everyone; a version who didn’t do everything possible for the sorority to prove they could be useful in an attempt to finally feel they belonged somewhere; a version who doesn’t check their phone constantly hoping they’ve received a text back from someone they care about, or doesn’t get ready for every pub / activity outing trying to look good enough to be worthy of attention or affection that evening.

there hasn’t a version of me that doesn’t try so unbelievably hard to feel normal, worthy of love or desirable; usually ending in some form of failure anyway.

i’ve never been a natural; all i do is try, try try.

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while i like watching leslie knope show time and time again that it’s worth trying and things can get done and all the trouble is worthwhile. it looks exhausting. it feels exhausting and it is. to care so much constantly and not get much in return; to not have much to show for it at the end of the day. i get into the same bed. alone. cold. hoping that tomorrow will be better and i’ll somehow feel fulfilled. and i never really do.

how i feel about people can’t keep overriding the way they treat me.

i made the choice at 19 to cut contact with ela despite her being my best friend for years because i could tell it wasn’t going anywhere positive for either of us, and i subsequently relinquished my other friends in istanbul.

i cut contact with what was my sorority (and really at that point, what was my life) because i was continuously being overlooked and undermined.

as much as my heart sometimes years for people i used to know, they’re just memories. memories i remember fondly and in times of weakness, wish i could return to. those people don’t exist anymore in the way i used to know them.

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i don’t really recognise the friends i used to know as m.c. or a.b.s.. the first has created a gap that even i don’t see the need in closing anymore, openly admiting as recently as yesterday night that ‘we’re just like everyone else know. our friendship used to mean something but know it’s just average!’.

i love to blame myself for ruining things, genuinely finding joy in finding yet another reason to dislike myself; but i need to genuinely evaluate the idea that i pick the wrong people. to befriend, to date, to love. i keep picking people to whom i don’t mean much.

after a millionth attempt to explain to a.b.s. that i deserve something, i don’t see the point anymore. it’s all in vain. i force myself so hard to overcome my own fear of vulnerability and intimacy, and it’s completely lost on someone who just doesn’t care. [listening to cellophane by fka twigs seems fitting right now, so i’ve got a great soundtrack to lament my life choices to at the very least]

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i always hate that stupid water in a cup analogy you see online about people’s capacity to provide care / attention or really anything; but it reminds me time and time again that it’s relevant for a reason. if i have a tall, full glass of love to give, even a small percentage of that seems overwhelming to someone with a shorter glass – it overflows their emotional capacity. similarly, when they try pouring their water into my cup, it never quite feels satiating compared to the available ‘space’. [terrible exaplanation because it’s more of a visual really but oh well this is my space anyway]. we’re just different people.

i keep asking for something that a.b.s. doesn’t know (or want) to give at the moment, and keep being disappointed. it’s been months of ‘being clear’, and ‘explaining myself’ and the truth is that nothing has changed. he hasn’t tried to be more attentive or ‘care’ (i hate that any and all feelings have been reduced to one word because it’s more palatable to someone who struggles with emotion). he’s shown time and time again that he’s not able or willing (the second being the truth, but i like to at least entertain the idea of the first one to make myself feel better); so why do i keep waiting for him to do it? it’s stupidity.

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alibis by mariana’s trench seems to really be reasonating with me right now.

“But I’m in the same place I used to be
But I’m trying harder not to be

This is not the man I hoped to be
And I’m just trying to stop the bleeding
I don’t know how to word it
I just started to deserve it.”

i’m honestly too tired to go through a whole evaluation of the person i’ve become right now. i’m sleep deprived and sad and i don’t want to actively feel worse about myself right now.

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i’m no longer asking for things that i know i won’t receive. i’m too tired to keep asking for people to care about me. everyone can just do what they want from now on. if that means spending a number of my evenings for the foreseeable future at home alone, then so be it (i can grind valorant at least i guess lol). it feels worse to keep hoping people will make an effort for me, than it is to just move on and wish that things had been different; so i guess that’s it.

i almost downloaded hinge tonight (as in, 20 minutes ago). i rationalised during my late night shower that i wouldn’t be doing anything ‘wrong’ with regards to a.b.s., especially considering that we’re nothing but ‘friends’ at the moment. i thought of myself being clear on my profile that i’m looking for my future husband and trying to think of how i would want to present myself to him. pondering which hobbies and interests to put, thinking of which pictures portray me best, curating how i would want him to think of me.

it only took me to insert my name that i remembered just how little i want to do this.

just how little i want to move on from things with a.b.s. and pretend they didn’t or don’t matter to me. i can try to avoid it however i’d like, but the reality of my attraction for him doesn’t go anywhere.

i’m hoping for a quick route to a destination i’ve always wanted to arrive to: marriage. i’m hoping that the universe will one day drop the man who i’m supposed to be with forever in front of me, and he’ll know just like i will that we were meant to find each other.

i don’t think that’s how it works.

i’ve known for awhile that my younger desires surrounding a romantic relationship were extravagant and fairy-tale-like at best, toxic and manipulative at worst. i tend to expect too much of people because although the men that i choose rarely actually do, i always think they’re capable of better. i think that’s the crux really of my problem with the opposite gender. i hope for them to be better than they present. i see a man with obvious red flags: controversial political opinions, usually a penchant for narcissism and an already apparent lack of care for me; and expect him to treat me well. hope that i can bring out the ‘best’ side of him. truth is, there usually isn’t much to bring out. and yet i hope and hope and try and try anyway. i bleed my sanity dry trying to understand why i can’t bring it out in them. why they can’t be an ideal version of themselves for me.

i will say, i feel i’ve easily been the most understanding and compassionate with a.b.s., and most of what i’ve gotten in return is embarrassment and hurt. i asked him earlier if he’d ask me random questions while playing a game, in hopes of not only distracting me from my own impulse of blurting out whatever detrimental question is on my mind, but also encouraging him to learn more about me. he refused. when i asked if he was ever curious about things relating to me, he told me he was. i think he realised during that conversation how little he actually does enquire about me on a day-to-day basis.

he knows how i feel about the american military complex, and what i think about the importance of digital privacy (both things that occasionally interest him); but how much does he know about the simple random things?

does he know that my favourite colour combination is green and purple / pink? or that my childhood stuffed animal was one i received for being the most well-behaved in class when i was 5? does he know that the pink axolotl i sleep with every night is called iris (something i named with my ex and always hated)? does he know that i pin my hair up into a messy ponytail when i’m home alone or cooking? does he know that i like starting my day with uplifting music to get in a good mindframe? and that i hate feeling dirty or sweaty?

does he know i miss playing tennis? that i miss the tennis summer camps i used to as a child in montreal? that i miss playing cards with my grandparents every single weekend? that i miss feeling ‘at home’ every single day?

[i’ve gone on an entirely separate tangent i fear. i do wonder if he knows that i sometimes carry the regret of having left my grandparents in montreal and often wonder what my life would look like if i stayed there. or if i finally gave up on my dreams in this country, and him, and left.]

does he know that i hate the colour orange for no real reason? or that i think i’m slightly allergic to kiwi (with no real proof)? or more relevant even, that i used to only get sushi as a teenager to celebrate events with my mum, so everytime i order it for myself it reminds me of her and that’s part of why i do so often?

more than that, does he care? does anyone?

there’s a quote i read awhile ago that always resonates when i ruminate about this:

I have dreams of you asking me better questions. Your desire to know more makes the love feel fuller. Then I open my eyes and you’re never as curious as I want

[turns out by the way, this is from a random post on tumblr. i’m not sure why but that feels incredibly fitting considering how formative the entire platform was for me as a teenager. and more than that, that a random person from a random place in the world has had the exact same feeling as i have: a comforting thought.]

—

my brain has the unfortunate skill of remembering details that hurt me (i’m not sure if that’s meant to be a coping mechanism or a survival one). after hearing that a.b.s. finds conversation with the woman in s.k. to be ‘vapid’ (an incredulously rude way of talking about a woman you’ve slept with and are actively keeping contact with), i wonder if it’s just because she doesn’t really make an effort to maintain conversation with him the way that he was used to / is with me.

i realised quite awhile ago that while i may like my friends as individual people, a.b.s. included, the time spent together is enjoyable because i try my best to make it so. i try to create interesting conversations and make sure everyone is included (aka not too niche of a topic even though i prefer those discussions with a.b.s.). i try to think of activities to do, even if just sat at a pub, to make the entire experience more enjoyable.

as conceited as this is going to sound: i think i often confuse the fun or interesting time i create for the person i’m with being fun or interesting, and then i’m disappointed that they’re not. i eventually realise at some point that they’re not really as enjoyable as i thought they were.

with a.b.s., i don’t know if it’s just the recent lack of effort that makes it so, or if the appeal is just starting to wear off because maintaining a relationship i’m happy with has become too difficult. it’s become too hard to ignore that he’s still in contact with her. that he’s bad at checking in on me. that he has difficulty expressing how he feels. it feels like a number of things that once didn’t really bother me simply because they were him are coming back in full force to remind me why it’s a better idea to stop romantic involvement (and potentially, friendship). despite telling him that i want him to make an effort, he can’t. whether that’s because he doesn’t want to or simply doesn’t know how to doesn’t really make a difference. even when i ask for something as simple as follow-through on something he already wants to do.

god even thinking about that situation just pisses me the fuck off. how goddamn childish and stubborn for no reason can you be? the person whose company you probably enjoy the most is asking you to stop contact with someone that you admit there’s no point in talking to and it’s a dragged out problem? and now i’m supposed to be waiting for you to ‘decide what to do’ (what the fuck does that even mean) without opening my mouth for clarity.

[i’m actually genuinely annoyed because it feels SO unfair to treat me like that after i’ve done my best to express how i feel. to just throw everything back in my face with the only defense being ‘i don’t want you to wait, just do your thing’ – YOU are part of that you absolutely fucking moron. you’re what i want. a less fucked up version of this.]

—

i’ve gotten so incredibly off base. this was originally supposed to be a reflection on how i have to learn to be patient and look forward to receiving what i am asking for from the universe. i am asking for a good man to be my future husband and father of my children. if that is a.b.s., then he will find it in himself to be a good man to me and treat me well (sooner rather than later); if he isn’t, then the universe will help me get over him and ultimately find the man i’m supposed to be with. it is as simple as that. it is so because i said. it’s that easy.

i strive to be good. in all that i do. i try to show up for people and be supportive and caring, even when it’s the difficult thing to do.

i deserve good things. i deserve to get everything i want. and i will. i already have so far. good things flock to me. i attract positivity and success in all of my actions. good things are coming.

—

i am going to sleep 😀 goodnight ari, love you!

(that took almost an hour to write, with a break to use the toilet & enjoy taylor swift’s iheartradio awards wins and happiness through my phone screen)

my days feel boring and repetitive. it continues to feel like my life is just on pause at the moment. most likely, my impending period is to blame for it; but that’s hard to remember when experiencing the moment.

i’d like to reset my house as much as i can tomorrow, as some organisation and clarity will do me the most good possible.