Therapy isn’t until Wednesday.
And I don’t want to forget how I’m feeling now.
This might be my only chance to let you know how I’m feeling about it all.
I knew better. I knew myself and I knew the headspace I would be in, but I still did the thing I shouldn’t have done so that I could have one last chance at seeing you.
And what I knew was that I wasn’t ready. I knew that my head and my heart haven’t quite caught up to one another and leveled out. Absolutely nowhere near being balanced. I knew that my heart still hurt deeply and yearned deeply. It was still in pieces- not fully recovered yet. I knew that my head would be filled with worry and anxiety and thoughts that simply weren’t true. It would expect something that didn’t quite align with reality. Both were wildly unprepared.
More than anything else, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do it. To put on a happy face and pretend like nothing has happened. To act as if we were simply acquaintances when the reality is that I have lived a life where every facet of my day incorporated you. I knew you would be able to do it. Because maybe in the end I didn’t mean that much to you anyways so I could just be forgotten. Maybe I was just a piece in the game you wanted to play in order to get what you needed and then be done with me. But I knew there was no way that I could act as if you were simply someone I knew casually.
And even though every clue in sight pointed towards not doing it, I did it anyways.
I went, and I put myself in a place where I knew I was setting myself up for failure. For heartbreak. For sadness. For uncontrollable tears. For nighttime anxiety where I wouldn’t know how to sleep on my own. For panic from being all alone. For all the things I have been trying to grow past in the last four months, but now because of where I was and because you were there, I am now back at ground zero.
There were moments when I felt connection. Moments that reminded me how well we work together and that you’ll know me better than anyone else knows me. That I can be myself and I don’t have to pretend to be perfect or pretend to know what to say or what to do. I can be grumpy and you wouldn’t mind or think any differently of me. But there were moments where I felt incredibly jealous. To see you talking to someone else. To see you sharing stories and revealing life to someone that wasn’t me. I felt betrayed and irritated not only because of what was happening but because there is no stability in what we have that could give me the confidence to trust in myself.
And so on night one, I cried myself to sleep. Tucked away in my room, away from everyone else. I cried softly and rapidly. Sobbing breaths turned into not being able to breathe. I felt my heart race outside my chest- like the night I had a panic and didn’t know how to slow myself back down again. I lied to the one who asked me about it, because she had heard me and seen me. I told her I didn’t realize I was doing it. When really everything was too much and I needed to let it go. I cried alone in that room as everyone outside played games and talked to one another.
Then on day two, I felt better. I genuinely wanted to be ok. I enjoyed our conversations and the time we were able to spend together. The most time we’ve had together in a long time. I appreciated the thoughtfulness and the gestures. Those were the gestures that led me to fall for you in the first place. It felt nice and not completely earth shattering. If I could, I would have froze time in that moment and held onto it forever.
But on day three, the jealousy and anxiety crept back in. The feeling of not being enough and not ever being the one to be picked set up camp in the forefront of all my thoughts. I watched as you ignored me and found someone else to pay attention to. Then when I tried to help and care for you in the ways I always would have, you seemed to get mad. This made me feel stupid. I was stupid. I should have just acted like I didn’t care. Like what you were doing. Except maybe you weren’t acting.
So with all of that compiled together, I was an emotional mess. As soon as I could, I wanted to get off and get away. I didn’t say goodbye because maybe saying goodbye would really solidify that it was goodbye. Saying goodbye was too literal in a situation where I knew this was probably the last time I would see you anyways. But of course, I regret it. Because not saying goodbye stole one more conversation we could have had.
Now I’m laying in bed not knowing what will happen next but feeling like it was all too much.
I went because of you, because I wanted to see you. But in seeing you, now I don’t know what to do.