to love for the hope of it all

i don’t remember the last time i wrote this early. i suppose sitting at a pub alone for over an hour does this to a person.

i asked a.b.s. to call me yesterday because i needed reassurance about my choices regarding us, and he never called despite saying he would. i would guess it serves as the perfect answe to my question of whether or not i’m simply wasting my time when it comes to us. it somehow doesn’t. my brain doesn’t really let it. i find it borderline impossible to truly fault him for anything it seems. i’d make a perfect life partner for him with this lack of self-respect.

i miss when love felt easy. when everything with him wasn’t so complicated. when i was just me and he was just him and things were simple. they never felt quite as simple as they did with him. and yet here we are.

nothing feels simple anymore. not sleeping or waking up, or eating, or living really. not in some life-ending dramatic way where i yearn for the end; but just, objectively. i feel i’ve lost a lot more this year than i realise. i never really re-developed the will to take care of myself. or developed it in the first place i suppose. my default has been self-harm for much longer than i actually realise. i enjoy putting myself through difficult situations in hopes of coming out of it. actually, i’m not quite sure why i do it to myself. i was going to say that i don’t think it’s on purpose but that seems untrue. i don’t really know why i feel the need to put myself through it. i know that life and love aren’t really supposed to be easy ever, but i make it even more unbearable for myself.

i’ll call a.b.s. later. i don’t know whether i can find it in myself to break the harmful patterns i know i follow. i keep being reminded recently that i should, but i think i’m kinda afraid of whatever consequences it would bring. i think i may be scared of being happy. i’m worried that even if all the circumstances were ‘perfect’, i’m still going to find a way to feel unhappy because there’s something wrong with me deep down. i’ll update later.

there’s a lot i feel the need to unpack about the current situation, involving how little blame i place on a.b.s. for his behaviour. i will take the time to do so in the daytime, taking into consideration that i may be coming down from the small amount of white powder i consumed this eve.

for a minute, in this uber home, i will be selfish.

you’re a constant in my thoughts while I travel in and out of yours like a lost vagabond. i reckon it’s a rarity I occupy it for anything longer than a second. i’m a passing thought while i sometimes consider you everything. 

i miss when i used to matter to somebody. even if i was unhappy. at least, for a short moment, i mattered. 

i think the overwhelming feeling of loneliness continues to grow. i don’t know how to stop it honestly.

i’m slightly inebriated. although i suppose recently it’s more of a question of when am i not.

i’ve been very strangely calm over the last few days. i keep hoping for the feeling to pass but i wonder if this may just be the new normal. i’m not entirely sure how to feel about things, honestly. things feel so inherently different with abs after talking to his sister and spending time with his family, and yet i know that it’s also most likely a one-sided feeling. i think a big part is that knowing the magnitude of what’s going on in his life makes it so difficult to even hold an opinion on us right now. it’s just not the moment to figure out things between us. we’re the last of the worries to be had. as much as i want to be there for him, i also have no clue how to.

i wondered if the only reason i ‘started’ something with someone else was some sort of unconscious ‘revenge’ for the christmas trip he took, but i think i realised most importantly that nobody could ever really compare to the way that i feel with him. nobody quite ever compares to him. flawed as he may be. it’s simply him. i think the recent feeling of calm may simply be coming from accepting that once again and just living with the feeling. i don’t know much else but that i love him.

i have so many other adult responsabilities to deal with at the moment, but i also can’t bring myself to care about them. i don’t know that i have the will to deal with anything really at the moment. things are just as they are. time will tell. things will either work themselves out or they won’t i guess. we’ll see.

i wonder if i’m happy with myself as a person. i still don’t feel quite deserving of good things. i think it’s partly because i know i have a tendency to find a reason to leave those things when i do happen to have them.

i felt trapped as a teenager, and dreamt of nothing more than escaping and finding my own way through things. i always ran away when things got particularly difficult. now i find myself unable to really let go of things, although that nostalgic aspect of myself has always existed. i think the simple truth is that i don’t really want to get over or move past this situation because of my own beliefs on the future. i still do think there’s a future for us two. i have no clue if i’m right, but i’d like to think that i am.

again, only time will tell. i think my calm comes from just knowing that things will turn out the way they will no matter what i do. the feeling of helplessness has evolved into something more i suppose.

i always reprimand people for their inability to make day-to-day decisions regarding food, or even just where to go. i reprimand myself for my inability to make decisions and stick to them; constantly wondering if i’m making the right choice. refusing to regret things has led me to be far too hesitant about determining the right path for myself.

i’m trying to not let my failure on my exams completely derail me. i’m not sure it’s working though. i’ve been avoiding even mentioning it since i learnt yesterday because i don’t know how to deal with the effect it has on me. i smoked for the first time last night since during covid and the lack of thought was so incredibly welcome. i wasn’t thinking about abs, i wasn’t thinking about my failed exams, i wasn’t thinking about my future or myself. i was existing as a random human being.

i continue to manifacture explanations and excuses for the way i’m being treated. most likely because it’s just a lot easier to deal with. i can put aside the hurt and disrespect i feel for his sake. which putting into actual words on a page is so disappointing. m.c. goes on about my lack of self respect (always great to hear! always!!!) but i don’t know how to express that it’s an abundance of love and not lack of it for myself. i thought i was doing a good job letting go of the idea of this all being good for me, but i’m not sure how to do that when i still think of him so positively. i can’t bring myself to stay mad.

i once read that people treat and love others in the way that they would like to be treated and loved. i’ve never met a single person who has to try as hard as i do to be treated well or be loved. it seems to come so easily to everybody else. like there’s an inate good in people that i somehow lack. i suppose this just repeats the worry i’ve had for as long as i can remember that something is rotten inside of me. that something is wrong with me. there must be or it would be this difficult for people to even tolerate me.

the self-loathing is just magnified with the exam results. that no matter how hard i try, i can’t achieve the things that i want. i can’t find a long term partner that wants to spend their life with me. i can’t suceed in the field i want to go into. the good thing at least is that i can add the excuse that i simply haven’t applied myself enough to soothe the pain of the exams. i can’t for the former statement.

i wonder if the general loneliness i feel is just a fabric of my imagination or simply linked to the distance between abs and i. or even just in a larger sense the distance i feel between what i want and myself. i always try to figure out if i mourn him, or the concept of him and what he represented; and i am still unable to really make the distinction. i’m not sure if my feelings are limited to my perception of him or not. there was a time i was completely positive that it was simply him as an individual.

i’ve returned to feeling lost. or rather i don’t know if it ever stopped. perhaps i do run away and ignore my problems. i let myself feel the negative emotions but don’t actually deal with them in any way i suppose. i’ve never even really tried to fix my eating and sleeping patterns after they were disrupted during the holidays. i think i just attribute it to a general decline in myself.

it’s been a long time coming. i’ve tried delaying the inevitable but i’m waining in my efforts because of the consistent lack of respect. i suppose i always knew this would be the outcome, as confident as i am, or at least was, in my affirmations that we could’ve truly been something amazing if he put in even a smidge of real fucking effort. from the beginning there’s been a disconnect, between who he actually is; and who i thought he was. as hard as i tried, i don’t think those things ever reconciled in a meaningful way to impact us.

i used to joke on it bittersweetly ‘it’s my fault for assuming thinking he’s a good person who cared about me!’; but i suppose i am actually to blame for that. i thought that he had somehow broken down barriers i had put up around myself after james because i was scared of trusting someone again, but i think the reality was that i was so desperate to be happy again, and feel cared for, that i clung onto every single action and lie that came out of his mouth. i pardoned his hesitancy from the beginning, blaming the ‘inexperience’ rather than doubting him in the slightest.

nowadays i find myself reminiscing about the ‘old abs’ or at least the relationship we had at the time; but i’m not sure that any of it can actually be classified as real. from the first second, i wasn’t the only person being strung along. i was never a first option or a real contender for his affection. i always get so hurt at the fact that i’m now only a toy to play with when bored, something you don’t want unless you have nothing else to do; but i think i’ve always been.

i always tried so hard to avoid actually feeling anger, not only because it would complicated my social relationships, but because i wanted to believe in the good in him. that none of it was malicious or purposefully deceitful. that none of it was meant to hurt me. that he could be trusted.

as much as i know i continue to harbour love for him; the hurt has gotten impossible to ignore. try as i might, to horribly shocking degrees, to ignore the feelings of disappointment and disdain, they persist. they persist as he gives me no reason to believe in him anymore.

i claim to no longer believe in the concept of regret, opting to consider every experience as positive in some degree; but i lament about the time that i have wasted trying to understand and love somebody who never wished to receive it. my love, my understanding, my respect, my words, my actions, my time, my money, my emotions and most of all my compassion have been wasted on somebody who has never cared about me in the slightest.

as hurtful as that thought is to entertain, leading cause for my confusion and denial so far, it seems the most fitting. it is impossible for him to have every cared about me, and simultaneously treat me the way he has.

he was never to be trusted, understood or loved. and i will pursue my best attempts to remember that in the future. with a heavy heart. and forever wishing that things could have had different results.

///

unfortunately i’m not sure i can trust myself to actually act in a manner reflecting this thought process. i don’t feel he’s given me much of a choice anymore. i suppose it isn’t impossible for things to change now onwards, yet holding on to that tiny shred of hope; of change; is what has tortured me over the last year. time will tell i suppose, as always. the best i can do going forward is protect myself. i aim to write more consistently.

i like to think that i’ve gotten better at managing my feelings, and even more importantly, my expectations of others; but it’s days like these i’m not entirely sure. i don’t know what i’m meant to be doing, what i’m meant to be feeling or even what i’m meant to be wanting. i don’t know what i want. every time i think i have an idea i’m proven wrong.

‘realising i over romanticised the whole thing and we were nothing’

apparently any generic social media post is enough to get me spiraling recently. but i suppose this one strikes a nerve as all i’ve heard from the beginning is that i’ve made everything into a much bigger thing that it ever was. and i guess the simple truth is that i don’t really mean anything to a.b.s., or ever did. the ‘us’ and ‘we’ concepts i had were just figments of my imagination, things i wanted rather than actually existed. i don’t even know that i genuinely believe that. i don’t really know what to believe anymore.

i was going to say that i imagine life isn’t meant to be this difficult and confusing but realised that actually this is exactly what people talk about. realising that your 20s are kinda terrible because you have so little knowledge of the world and yet have to navigate it alone has been a very tiring experience. that being said, i don’t think love is supposed to be this painful and exhausting. i know i pride myself on my intuition and trust in myself and the person i’m dealing with but i wonder if my self-preservation techniques are ever going to kick in and save me anytime soon. how do you love somebody who doesn’t want to be loved? how do you take care of someone who doesn’t want to open up to you? is it even possible? is it realistic to hope someone’s preconceived notions about you change because you show them support and try your best to be there for him? does it even particularly matter for men?

i fear i’ve watched far too much sex and the city over the last two days while cleaning my apartment. i suppose i should be taking some of the storylines as lessons as they remain pertinent in today’s dating scene; but all it’s done is made me wish things were different with a.b.s.

in all fairness, this week is potentially the worst time to overthink the situation when nothing negative has actually happened between us and he has so much going on. i think i’m just finally gradually coming to terms with the fact that the minimum i’ve been given over the last few months might not be enough for me anymore. i don’t know how much more i can keep justifying for the sake of my romantic feelings.

i think i need to prioritise sleep and rest. it always majorly affects my mood when i don’t get enough sleep. i feel like my mind has just been racing for weeks with no end or pause in sight. normally the whole point of going out on weekends is the distraction, and admittedly friday night was probably the most fun i’ve had in months; but i’ve just spent the weekend worried about a.b.s., school and holding myself back from interactions i might want to have but don’t want to impose. i was doing so well at not walking on eggshells with him anymore but i think all that progress may have been totaled. the exceptional circumstances might justify it though – i suppose only time will tell.

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.

i think if there was one major thing i could have changed in my life, it would have been to have my mother and grandmother love me less. as honestly terrible as it sounds, it would have made it a lot easier to actually act and follow through with my contemplations of suicide. even times when i feel trapped and almost instictively resort to those types of thoughts, opening up to my mother only serves to make me feel infinitely worse, reminded that despite how much she expresses her love, it never is truly felt.

i feel the need to preface the next paragraph about inner thoughts with a form of disclaimer, both for whoever reads this, but i think even to make the differenciation in my mind: this doesn’t concern a.b.s. in any material way, besides just being the current object of my unwanted love. that is to say, being upset about my love life made over the holidays made me realise a much bigger, larger problem about unhappiness in my general life.

as a teenager i always felt i had to conform to whatever opinions people had of me, or what was expected of me as a daughter, girl, sister, relative and living human being. i don’t remember a time where being alive felt particularly easy, although i must have felt it when i was a child. it’s never come naturally to me to take care of myself in a substantial way, or even to really care; always focusing on either how i portray myself, or trying to understand what was going on around me to find how to fit in best. i always knew that i related to the concept of observing your surroundings in order to read a situation, having grown up around people who have never been able to express their emotions in a healthy way. i can’t exactly be surprised that i can’t either. i always thought i maintained a good grasp of it within the confines of my own head however, cocky and arrogant teenager that i was, believing that despite my surroundings i would be able to surmount my issues by leaving my childhood home and surrounding myself with ‘better’. that i’d be able to create a ‘better’ for myself. extending to the much larger obsession i have with love and finding an environment that i feel safe in.

i think that image has finally shattered. i think it’s been slowly breaking down over the last few years as i find myself unable to cope with my family situation on top of everything else. while covid marked a change in the entire world, i don’t think i truly ever understood the gravity of its effects on me. i knew it worsened my anxiety, caused me to face realities about the relationship i found myself in, my own physical self image, my friendships and most of my life; but i don’t think i ever appreciated its effects on my psyche. the breakdown of my family dynamic, always expected and wished for, constantly pending; the metaphorical last nail in the coffin; was my own doing. i made a decision years ago that have impacted every single day of my life since. i’ve never even really focused on how i felt about it. that, at the end of the day, i put in place everything happening now.

i suppose my initial instinct is to feel guilt, or regret, or just dread and self-hate at the consequences of my actions; but i don’t think that i do. i have occasionally in the past, especially when thrown in my face numerous times by my father, but i don’t know that i would have ever been able to continue living with the guilt of not being honest with my mother. it almost killed me when i was a teenager. that feeling of being trapped and stuck between two terrible outcomes; a rock and a hard place; seeing my mother hurt because of her failing marriage, knowing that i have to keep things from her (regardless of if she herself knew about it anyway), or exposing it and changing the family dynamic forever.

i think the overarching feeling since i was a teenager is that of being trapped. i was under the impression that moving to montreal, starting university and finding new groups of friends and spending quality time with my grandparents there freed me. i believed that for years while there. i can’t tell if it’s because i actually felt that way, or if i had just been expecting myself to feel that way for most of my life, and thus, did somehow. while there, i was plagued with terrible romantic decisions constantly, going from a horribly abusive relationship to one i deemed safe, but never really fulfilled in. i strived to allow myself to explore any friendships arising, trying to join a sorority to do so, being more active than i ever could manage socially through school unions and overly scheduled days to avoid my inner thoughts. although this is an oversimplification and not doing justice to the actual joy i felt in the moment, this isn’t a time where i find myself able to focus on those positive emotions.

i wonder if my inability to really consider how i feel about the decision to tell my mother about my father’s illegitimate child has ultimately, subconsciously, led to the insecurity i feel around decision making now. i find myself constantly worrying that i’m making a mistake, and ultimately, not doing anything to stop myself from making them. i suppose this is where a.b.s. comes back into play, as i truly do not know if i’m meant to walk away from the situation, for my own good, or not. it’s not even something i’m able to really consider right now after debriefing with my mother about the situation with family.

i worry that i constantly feel powerless. any attempt i make at reconciliation or helping my mother and father seems to fail, or worse, backfire. i feel so overwhelmed with my thoughts that i can’t focus on academic work enough to actually get a grasp on if i’m enjoying it or not. i’ve backed myself into a corner socially, where i can’t simply ignore my feelings until they go away as the friendship group is inevitably intertwined; one where i’m not even sure i can really trust anyone to have my best intentions in mind. i try to build a routine, stick to it, and most importantly incorporate healthy habits that will actually improve my quality of life; but am unable to really commit to them in a substantial way. i feel trapped in a life i’ve created for myself and thought i wanted my entire life with no way out of it without disappointing essentially everyone in my life.

i fear the worries about my friendship group and social life are exaggerated at the moment as my thoughts are muddled by emotions. i would be remiss to not acknowledge that it is a lifeline i’m clinging onto at the moment, but that more than simply that, i hold so much love for the people i call my friends. i realise that it gets tossed aside as people pleasing or a willingness to fit in; but i know at my core that it’s a love for them as people that won’t allow me to make a change: i simply don’t want to. i suppose it’s a much too similar situation with a.b.s., where my feelings are even more difficult to dicypher as the separation of platonic and romantic is impossible to make. i must admit though, that distinction is not one i plan to focus on now, or that has even been on my mind recently. as far as things are concerned with him, this morning’s conversation has given me enough peace of mind to focus on other things, content with just leaving it as an unknown for the time being.

ultimately i think i just feel unable to make my own decisions when it comes to huge, life-altering ones, because i get put into a position where i feel i must act a certain way despite what i would actually want to do. i wonder if i project my (at least internal) obsession with what is necessary onto a.b.s. to some degree – having momentarily considered it, i suppose we’ve actually grown up quite similarly, at least to some degree. i knew it played a part in initial attraction towards each other but i think somewhere along the line i realised that we must have had two completely different experiences to make the decisions we have since, and have the separate outlooks on life that we do; but perhaps it’s just been different outcomes from a similar past.

despite my recent and best attempts not to, i think i still try to understand the person across from me in a situation as best i can to predict their behaviour. over the last few days when writing out the love letter i was hoping to deliver on what is frankly one of my favourite days, i realised that for the first time i was comfortable not doing so, not acting on my instinct to protect myself in the situation when it comes to him. i don’t know whether that is still the case. i can’t tell whether i’ve just become blinded by my own infatuation that i’m creating something that isn’t there, or if i just have a better understanding of him than most. i truly don’t know at this point. i don’t even know if i want to maintain that understanding right now.

debriefing with my mother about the self-doubt the divorce has done nothing but strengthen my own difficulties with trusting people. i feel it’s been brewing over the last few weeks as people refuse to acknowledge my point of view (namely, friends refusing to even hear my own opinion about my romantic life) and anything i hear from my parents is about the terrible mistake that has been their marriage and i think ultimately, their life. my mother makes it a point to say that the only good things to come out of it are my brother and i, but that somehow just makes me feel infinitely worse. i suppose almost an hour after the first paragraph that sentiment hasn’t changed. i feel like i’m supposed to represent a beacon of hope for those who care about me, because otherwise they attempt to help by ‘being honest’ or ‘acting for my own good’; but that gets increasingly difficult as i feel i’m unable to express myself to anyone really.

it feels like i’m stuck pondering my life alone, which does nothing but activate and reinforce my own confusion and indecision about my life. i’ve been acclimating myself to being more alone recently, not because i want to be, but because i feel i must for my own sanity – which ironically, i’m not sure is even the best idea.

i haven’t even been able to feel any joy or excitement about my academic life, something i normally focus on to avoid all else, as it feels i’m just stuck in a cycle of exam burnout. i don’t allow myself the time to get interested in the topics i’m actually supposed to be learning as i focus on studying for exams and the anxiety that the mere concept imposes. i feel the loss of school friendships has played a massive part in it, but it’s also too late for me to go back on actions i’ve already taken. i miss studying with people. i miss the mere act of really discussing things with people. a.b.s. is the only person i’m able to do that with at the moment; who i feel truly matches if not surpasses me in intelligence and simply, being interesting. i worry that too much of my life at the moment remains surface-level, not really pushing me. which also completely contradicts the feelings of overwhelm i experience; resulting in the ultimate feelings of confusing that plague me.

i haven’t lost my flair for writing though, it seems. i truly adore the dramatisation it allows me to express, as it has reached a point where i simplify my thoughts and occasionally feelings in an attempt to minimise them. i get to write weird turns of phrase that seem plucked out of some intense tale rather than what it is: thoughts of a 24 year old woman who doesn’t know what she’s doing or what she wants for herself. rather, i get to be the longing, confused and lost protagonist that is searching for answers within herself and her environment, thriving to advance the story in some way. perhaps that approach would be more conducive to genuinely unraveling the mystery of ariana.

as 1 am approaches (less than a minute it seems), i shall return to my pursuit of commercial contracts in hopes of somehow absorbing information despite the sleep deprivation i have felt creeping in all day. i should attempt to write more often; allow myself the opportunity to actually do so.

candles lit. a glass of red wine. upbeat 60s-70s music. an evening at home i can’t complain about:)

forgot just how good the beach boys are hihi

the prodigal daughter returns.

after an unexpected but needed hiatus, i find myself drawn back to this space and in the larger sense, the analysis of my thoughts and feelings. january felt neverending, but february oftens brings new levels of madness and emptiness that i completely forget about until they return. i’m sure there’s some very deeply-rooted reason for it, but i think i can simplify it quite easily to still a bunch of shit going on in my life that i constantly have to deal with.

i adore writing in purely lowercase, i must admit. i think it brings a weird sort of aesthetic that genuinely brings me joy – some strange, surface-level poetry vibe that reasonates with me despite always being terrible at poetry and never quite understanding it. prose, in all of its glory, makes infinitely more sense to me with the level of detail and sentences sprawling hundreds of pages; rather than trying to fit all of the emotions a person is feeling in three, weird iambic-metered lines.

i always find the beginning of the year the most uncomfortable, having to deal i suppose with the consequences of the end of the previous year, but even more than that: the changes it brings. the indecision i often detest in others seems to be extremely prevalent in myself nowadays. more than simply being unsure about my own decisions and thoughts, it seems more difficult than ever to be in sync with the world around me – it feels like while i’m existing in the same time and space to everything else, i’m on a completely different line in some sort of wavelength / timeline existence, and i’m waiting until i inevitably join it back. i think the word for that is lost. i feel lost.

i’m not entirely positive as to why frankly, as i feel like most of the things in my life are actually somewhat objectively settled; but i don’t seem to be. i think this might genuinely be the most frustrating state of mind to find myself in: ___. i have to take a moment to actually consult the wheel of feelings i have saved in my phone in an attempt to try to name exactly what i’m feeling. following the chart, i often struggle to even start trying to quantify how i feel at this exact moment: happy? no. surprised? no. bad? yes. fearful? maybe. angry? no. disgusted? no. sad? yes. how am i meant to put a finger on the actual emotion i feel when i’m meant to be detailing a general feeling i also can’t pinpoint? years of intellectualising emotions, particuarly over these last few months, seem to have really taken its toll on me.

i think i like the word despair a lot. it’ll go away, but i think that’s the best word for it right now at least. i may continue to write later.