to love for the hope of it all

i never realised how alone talking to my parents makes me feel. i feel so disconnected from the version of me they have in their heads.

i should be much more worried about family issues or school for that matter, and yet i think my breaking point this evening is realising that as stressed as i am, with my first instinct being to isolate myself, there’s only one person i want to talk to, and he couldn’t care less about me. he’s told me over and over and i keep refusing to accept it but i think i may have finally hit my limit. i don’t know if it was m.c. telling me about their conversation, repeating that he didn’t want anything to do with me but that i was the one who wouldn’t leave it alone and he didn’t know how to get me to; or the creeping realisation that came to fruition tonight that he genuinely just does not care about me.

i always separated our platonic and romantic relationships, thinking that at the very least we were friends to a certain degree. at some point he was the person i felt closest to in the world, but i think i’ve come to realise that i don’t think i was ever his friend. all i was and am is a person he was physically attracted to that he realised he didn’t see anything serious with. and that’s all. because there’s no way that someone can care about another and still treat them the way he treats me. i don’t know if finally admiting the reality of the situation to my dad sealed its finality in my head, or if it’s just been a growing realisation that i refuse to acknowledge; but i don’t know how to anymore. it just feels, empty. i knew he ruined things between us beyond realistic repair when he went to south korea, but i don’t know that i ever truly understood what that meant for me. i was going to hyperbolise as saying what it meant in my heart, or mind, or soul.

i think something in me has been breaking since that night in september he told me he no longer had romantic feelings for me, despite admitting that i was the first person that he actually ever wanted a relationship with. i’ve been holding on to that second part, and any slight indication he cares about me still somewhat since, including all of his indecision now instead of just listening to him. and i suppose everyone else. he doesn’t want me. i would suppose he never actually has. he doesn’t care about me enough to want me. the phrase that hate isn’t the opposite of love, but rather indifference is has never been quite as hurtful as over the last few months.

i’m positive i’ll feel differently about this sometime in the near future, but tonight i think i need to allow myself to feel the pain this is causing. replaying ‘the last time’ is really hitting a specific fear of rejection that i’ve always known to exist. i think i’ve known that something in me has been breaking, and i’ve been blaming every other development in my life than the reality that i keep putting myself through the pain of wanting him and acting on it, and getting somewhat rejected, over and over and over again. the timing is such a shame when i feel we probably had the most helpful conversation when last spoken about. i was hoping on my walk home from the tube that i could cling onto his words in the morning about being unsure about wanting me to leave him alone rather than the affirmation i got the previous evening; but i don’t know that i can anymore. i don’t know that i can keep putting myself through this. through the rejection. it makes the affirmation he provides occasionally so much more euphoric and encouraging, but i can’t keep putting myself through these low points.

—

i always complain about having to be strong for the sake of everyone else, and my inability to take care of myself; but this is an opportunity to do both. to take a step away from this, from him, despite how little i want to. i think i have to finally accept that he’s pushing me away. regardless of however i believe he feels. he doesn’t care about what i’m going through, what he’s putting me through; and yet i give infinite importance to his feelings and experience. i hate even writing this out in fear that he feels guilty if he ever were to even check this blog because it’s the last thing i want. which is in itself ironic as everyone tells me that he should feel bad for how he treats me and what he does to me, a consequence i would never wish on him. i would love to keep repeating that he’s just confused, but i don’t know that i can keep ignoring how ridiculous i sound to everyone.

—

regardless of my love life, the conversation with my dad also reminded me of truly how little i can rely on anyone besides myself (how naive of me to claim that it’s apart from my current feelings on my love life). it truly feels more and more difficult to be able to actually trust people. i must focus on my academics and setting my life up for myself so i never find myself in a position where i have to rely on someone else. i can’t rely on anyone else to care about me enough to want to take care of me. how poetically ironic that i shared that sentiment in the first few lines of my undelivered love letter mere days ago. that i was drawn to a.b.s. because i believed in his ability to care for me. i alternate between much too reliant on people, and much too independent that i’ve started giving myself whiplash in my approach to life. my first instinct is always to take a step back and protect myself, except when it comes to anything romantic. i must learn to give up on love. for my own sake. i’ve become so attached to this idea of a saving grace that i refuse to acknowledge the reality that it doesn’t really exist. the reality that there’s no point to it.

i always hate the feeling of second-guessing values i’ve held for so long, or ideals about life i’ve clung to my entire life; but perhaps the pain and confusion it brings should be welcome. i always talk and feel like i’ve given up, contemplating plain suicide, to escape the discomfort; but perhaps the best way to finally break myself to a point of no return is to accept that good doesn’t exist. that might finally be the key. to listen to everything negative people say about others, love, family, greed and just give in.

i pride myself on staying soft and kind and trusting despite how little it’s ever been helpful. i’ve never really gained anything from being a good or better person. it’s just left me used and taken advantage of.

—

i think my teenage years must have switched my life trajectory beyond what i could ever comprehend. not being able to open up or trust my own family during my entire life, never really receiving the amount of love or appreciation i should have, made me give much more important to friendships and romance. no longer feeling like i could rely on relatives made me switch that energy onto the closest other people surrounding me. perhaps if i had grown up in montreal with my grandparents; or even if my father had just made a few different decisions; i would be a very different, objectively better person. my fixation with being ‘better’ has never caused me anything but pain as i always lack to ability to actually follow through with it. i always worry that becoming what i think is better would not actually heal anything in me. that even if i somehow fixed everything i found wrong in myself, i’d still be unhappy.

—

i suppose that’s why i have no problem clinging onto things that cause me pain. why i feel almost safe in it. it dawned on me a few days ago that this situation of unrequited love, of push and pull and confusion with a.b.s. didn’t even particularly bother me that much; because at least he remained in my life, and it was a hurt i’m somewhat familiar with. i wonder if i’ve spent my whole life wanting people to care about me, and love me, more than they have. what a sad thought. i wrote in my letter that he made me feel alive. i wonder if i just meant that he made me feel the full spectrum of emotions, ranging from absolute pure joy to second guessing myself.

—

my thought was interrupted by a random call from my grandmother from istanbul. what strange timing. my sniffling and swollen eyes didn’t seem to cause any sort of worry, nor my only mentioning of exams and how little i’m eating and sleeping which i suppose is not surprising at all. i think the last time i got any sort of restful sleep was with a.b.s. two weeks ago – cuddling always makes me feel safe enough to stop overthinking and finally get some rest.

i don’t want to just write about him, partly in case he ever reads this, but also because i hate that i can’t really think about anything else clearly when i know, and am repeatedly told by everyone, that he could not care less about me. proven most days by the lack of correspondance between us. by the lack of interest in anything remotely related to me. i usually use the excuse that i can’t tell if it’s because he genuinely doesn’t care, or if i’ve deciphered some secret code he uses to say that he can’t bring himself to deal with any feelings he might have. i think i’m forced into a position where i can no longer make excuses.

that directly relates, i suppose, to yesterday’s sentiment about feeling trapped. i don’t know. i’m not exactly good at giving up either. i always find in myself some form of way to soldier on and deal with whatever situation is presented to myself; and i suppose this is no exception. a.b.s. is no exception either. i don’t think i know what i want anymore. i don’t think i have the capacity to figure it out either though, perhaps why i find it impossible to blame him for the exact same thing. i don’t really know anymore. i find myself echoing that sentiment far too much recently. i don’t think i really know anything anymore. i’m just going through the motions of life, attempting to fulfill the responsibilities i’ve taken on and live with.

after having written literal paragraphs about why it would make more sense for me to simply concede to the realities of my love life; i don’t think i can. i’m not even sure that i would want to. i think it’s best that the letter never reached its intended recipient the other day, because it echoed far too much of my faith in myself and what i believe which was put to the test by the events of the evening that followed. i think the very simple truth of how i feel about him remains. that i can’t bear to be strong about this, about him. that i can’t bring myself to do what needs to be done for fear of opposing the position he holds in my heart. only time will tell i suppose. the dawn always brings better things, although even that hasn’t been a given recently.

—

a.b.s. if you ever do find yourself reading this. i can never bring myself to actually blame you for anything, nor do i truly believe that you are to blame for the things i’m feeling. i choose to put myself in situations that makes me feel this way because i can’t resist or ever deny the pure joy you bring into my life. i’m sorry if any of this make things worse between us; but i’m unable to talk to you about this and need to put the words into the universe. it’s so much more about me than anything to do with you. i adore you.