to love for the hope of it all

it’s been almost a month since my last post and truthfully, the good things haven’t come my way yet. in a similar vein, the loneliness persists. it’s been a month where i’ve felt myself fightingfor relevance in everyone’s life and losing.

i find myself unable to ignore harsh realities i’m facing, despite having pushed them aside for most of this year. four months ago i stopped feeling like m.c. was my friend. eleven and a half months ago a.b.s. chose to fly halfway across the world to see another girl whilst he was ‘seeing’ me. it’s been weeks since i’ve felt like somebody actually wants to spend time with me and makes an effort to do so. i’m trying so hard not to feel abandoned by everybody, but it’s not working.

i am wondering what i’m doing in london as of late. i feel myself wasting my days away in a city that used to mean the world to me. in a city that represented possibility and a new me. truth is that moving from a city to another doesn’t change the fiber of your being, and i’m still the same fuck up i was.

i’m still messy, and an emotional disaster, and have difficulty with friendships and people. i still wake up alone every single morning and only have myself for warmth in the evenings. i still can’t eat properly.

as of late i find myself unable to stomach anything without comparing myself to the girls that a.b.s. has actually held romantic feelings for. skinny, beautiful women that probably walked around without an obvious care in the world, effortlessly cool in the same way that a.b.s. is. women that don’t walk around constantly wondering how their actions impact the impression others have of them and in a neverending (and unachievable) pattern of having to beg people to care. no that’s far too much to deal with for him, and seemingly for any man. you’d want someone to whom being cool, funny, smart and pretty comes naturally. not somebody who continuously strives for it. not me.

i can delude myself as much as i want that people do care, but the reality is that their actions don’t reflect it. i suppose it never has. a.b.s. hasn’t actually expressed an excitement to see me since july last year. the reality of that is so depressing. that he used to reach out to see me during the week because he genuinely wanted to. becaused he missed me. now it’s a cycle of unanswered texts and empty excuses that lead nowhere. and i’m a goddamn idiot.

every time he makes the tiniest effort i sing praises of adoration at the mere thought and let myself fall back into our drunken routine. him pretending to care and me pretending to believe him.

i’m quite positive i will bring me out of the funk i currently find myself, by some big change or just a wanting to, but it sucks right now. it feels terrible to be reminded every single day that no matter what i do or how much i try, i cannot will people to care about me and should instead settle for pretending to ignore that all people do is put up with me. that is what it has felt like my entire life, and probably what it will continue to feel like.

i’m a great reserve. always have been and seemingly always will be. never in the forefront of people’s minds unless i force myself there. to be put up with but not desired.

(of course my first thought is about the potential difference if i were skinnier, because i’m diseased and it never really goes away. it festers in my mind and literally poisons any food i make.)