Saturday, February 7, 2015

Here, have my heart, it's all poured out.

Throughout my entire life I've never regretted my decisions. I always believed that whatever I did led me to where I am, and I'm not very big on the "what if" mindset. Sure, I'd regret wearing a red shirt with blue shoes, but those things are trivial. I don't do regret.

Until now.

See, last December, I decided to end things with him. Why, I'm not gonna tell you. Let's just put it in the most cliché way possible; it wasn't him, it was me. And before you roll your eyes and raise your brows, let me tell you, it really was. I never felt that before, where it felt so wrong to be with a person even though there was, technically, nothing wrong. I just knew that something was off, something needed to get fixed, something needed to change. With me, with him, with us, I don't know. I was confused, and I almost never am because I usually keep my feelings in check. And at the time I couldn't.

The saint that he is, of course, understood me, gave me what I needed - space, time, all the things someone going through a personal struggle needs. He was, comme d'habitude, perfect. We didn't stop talking, however. I couldn't stop because I was so used to him, and I didn't want to fully let go. I was incredibly selfish. Still am.

And then he decided he had enough of me hurting him over and over and over again, because to be honest, I did. I hurt him over and over and over again.

And for a while I though he finally realized it, he has finally accepted that I'm not good for him. That he could be so much happier without me. I told him that once, you know. I asked him, "What if you could be happier with someone else?" "But I'm already happy with you," he replied.

And right now that's what's breaking me, that I let go - woop, no, scratch that - I pushed away this person because I was being a brat. I let my emotions get the better of me, I gave in so easily. I convinced him that he's better off without me. And maybe he is, and I don't know what to do anymore.

A lot of people say that the nights are difficult. I disagree. Waking up is much more difficult. I still reach for him when I get up in the morning. And then I remember his little quirks, like constantly scratching his eyes, or falling asleep instantly, oh and on instinct hugging me when I call his name out when I wake up in the middle of the night, and I break inside.

I don't do regret, except now. I regret having hurt him so much, I regret being so selfish when he was the best thing that happened to me, the best person to have come into my life.

And I'm a whore now because if I stop even for a second, if I'm not preoccupied and buzzing, if I have even the slightest blip in activity, I think of him, and how we're not together, and it breaks my heart so so much.

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