Could It Be That Simple?

I’ve decided I must be somewhere stuck in the in-between of relationship end and single person. I’m resolved to the fact that this will indeed end. Somehow, some way, some day… this will end. Physically I’m still with this person. I see him daily, we share a bed, and his touch still warms me. But mentally and emotionally I just want to complete the separation.


I want peace from something that was and won’t continue. Emotionally, I am drained of all possible effort… hope and I know better now. I know we are past effort. But that does not stop the piece of me that always wants to fix, the piece of me that lives to please my other… from wanting.

I care how he sleeps, that he feels contented, that he doesn’t hurt. But in all my cares I am reminded of the simple fact that makes this relationship moot. … He does not care. He simply is not capable of caring, empathizing, or understanding.

So, in front of me it lives… breathes, eats, thinks, touches, and yearns… but inside of me it just hurts. An emptiness that has swallowed the last three years of my life. A picture that hung on my wall and has now been taken down to leave an awkward nail imbedded in my wall.

I long to hang something new. I want to create my path to the life I deserve. Because for the last few years, with him, it hasn’t really been a life at all… just the physical act of living.

God, it hurts to push for this emptiness knowing how much I have loved him. How much I have sacrificed while staying with him… having gone back to him… and loving him and his family as my own. Completely unbeknownst to him... because I think in his eyes I am useless, selfish, uncontrolled chaos. But really that’s just my impression of his thoughts because communication is so far from his ability.

To be in love with someone who is emotionally unavailable is to be suffocated by the very breath you need to survive. I prayed that it would become breathable, but unless it would be willing and take action to change it merely would not be breathable. Hope alone does not will something to be… no matter how hard you or I try.

It took me almost three years to recognize this. It took me almost three years to give up hope. It took almost three years of my life away. Life is far too short to be handing my years away.

I want to be loved, hell, I want to be liked! I deserve these things. I can give so much. I love so completely. I communicate honestly, openly, regularly. I deserve someone who wants to love and be emotionally available to me. It’s that simple.

Emotional availability… could it be that simple? Yes, yes… I think it is. I can do this. I’m going to get there. Because I can’t have kids until I’m there. I want kids…

Can I be a Grown Up, Yet?

I constantly wonder, 'where the fuck am I supposed to go next'. I know I'm definitely not where I want to be. When I was little... I longed to be big. I always wanted to be at the next age mile-marker. When I was 5, I longed to be 10. ... When I was 10, I longed to be 13, and then 16, and then 18, and then 21. ... So where am I now. I'm 24 and my life still feels... well, not there yet.

I hurried up and got into college. An almost Ivy League so I could get the coveted law degree. I was slammed back into reality when the asshole one dorm over decided he wanted to get laid whether I wanted to give it up or not on the very first weekend. I tried to be the hero, move down the hall, let this 'good guy' go on without repercussion. As I moved down a floor to the one-bed cell that became my new dorm. ... I think a part of me died in that room. The loneliness, the fear, the loss of self. ... I moved back home with my tail between my legs, praying my parents would wash away all the confusion and pain that one year gave me. Guess what, they couldn't. Nor could they wash away the $27,000 it cost me to be held against the door against my will for five fucking minutes.

I hurried up and got married. He thought I was beautiful. He held my hand. He listened when I was having a bad day. He gave me strength when I was running low on my own. ... Must be true love! Right? ... Or is this what I should call, a best friend? After almost a year married, I see it. He was my best friend and I screwed it all up. He moved back to NYC Memorial Day. So now I'm just separated. So much for hurrying to build my family. I was going to get the husband and hurry and make the baby. WOAH, there nelly! Back that bitch up. We have got some re-writing to do.

Do I ever get to feel accomplished? I don't want to live my life one lamp-post to the next. There has got to be a better way!!

I AM A GROWN UP, DAMNIT! Time I start acting like one? ... meh, its all over-rated! Hehehe