I hate you, Valentine's Day. I hereby declare war on you and everything you represent and everything you have done to hurt me and all the hurting you and your accomplices will do in the next two weeks. Fuck you Valentine. I hate you.

Unbelievable

Right now I'm fighting off the urge to call him, and it's very difficult because I have tried everyone else and there is no one else who has time to talk to me. Part of me is ready to concede defeat, but the other part is not. Do I wallow on my own? I suppose there is also the self-destructive part of me that wants to experiment and see what happens if I call him after regular business hours (i.e. when he is with her) and see what happens. To make it even more interesting, to see if he wants to see me tonight. See if he already has plans, which I know full well that he does, and I don't like them. I hate them.

I cried at the beach today, unable to escape the thoughts that were temporarily displaced by work for a few days. I hate this. I wish I were dead. This is such an excruciating torture and I wish I had never met him, never trusted him, never felt anything for him. I would be so much happier right now if none of that had ever happened. But as it stands now, I am stuck with the aftereffects of a fake relationship based on his lack of genuine feeling and my complete lack of caution. I am paying the price for it now. Paying the price for trusting someone who changes his mind more than he changes anything else in his life, calls it "what I felt at the time", and really means that it was what he felt for those few minutes before he did a 180 and stabbed me in the chest. I hate

feeling this way. Feeling betrayed, stupid humiliated (again) belittled ignored unappreciated unwanted unloved unremarkable un-special un-everything. And to think all these things could be brought about by one man saying one thing one time that he really didn't mean.

Unbelievable.

Sayonara

I went to see the pro at the club today, hoping she would tell me the secret to feeling better, but she wasn't able to tell me anything I don't already know. I'm not mad though, because this is new for her and I've been living with it for a long time.

My meltdown count has reached four in the past 24 hours, with the promise of many more on the horizon. At this point, I would settle for being able to keep it together if I can't feel better. The pro said I have trouble getting in touch with my anger. The truth is that I am angry, I just don't want to let it out because of the irreparable damage I know I'm capable of if I unleash all my negative feelings.

I had an appointment with the copier today, and I had to get the key to the office from him, but as soon as I walked into his office, I burst into tears that were uncontrollable for the better part of 10 minutes. It is humiliating to let him see me like this, frustrating to not be able to stop it, and maddening that there is nothing I can do or say to fix it. I am out of control, veering off Dead Girl's Curve into the ocean below. But I suppose it's all for the best anyway, because I am clearly not fit to be living any sort of remotely emotional life. Sayonara, feelings. Now get out. You are dead to me.

Letter to Deaf Ears

Dear You,

I'm sitting here writing this when I should be doing my homework. My eyes are hurting from lack of sleep and crying, and my stomach hurts from eating and feeling sick for the past two weeks. And as I sit here, I think of you with her, and what you are probably doing, and I can't believe it.

I always thought I knew you, but I obviously didn't. I had no idea you were so devious, so secretive, so completely capable of willingly and gladly humiliating, hurting, and betraying people you call your friends. And for what? To enter into a relationship you are convinced will end anyway? Exactly what do you gain from that? If you are right, and she leaves you for her first love, you will be left with more heartache than when you started, and at least one (but probably two or more) less friends than you had before this. Is it really worth it to you? Are my feelings really so inconsequential? My friendship so disposable?

The mailbox of my phone is nearly full. I should clear out your daily messages, but for some reason, I find them necessary. When I listen to them, I know that when you were talking, she has just left, or you have, and you were taking a measly five minutes to call me, the one who isn't good enough for more than five minutes. I also listen to your glib jokes, your jovial tone, and my anger at you (and her) escalates enough to make my heart pound. Then I listen to your words, and in about a dozen messages, there is only one in which you say you miss me. One. ONE.

How am I supposed to ever take you seriously? Even more importantly, how do you think I am ever going to be able to trust you enough to call you a friend? You stopped treating me like a friend the second you started sleeping with her, because that's when your lies began. Of course, you think of it as none of my business, and in a way it isn't, but at the same time, you were always making excuses as to why you couldn't do simple things like have dinner with me or spend Christmas or New Year's with me when you knew I had no one else. And the truth is that those excuses were silly lies designed to keep me in the dark about your dishonesty, to make me think I was the one to blame for your hesitation, to make me feel like I was wrong to be upset that you didn't have time for me. Because the truth was that you had someone to sleep with, but you couldn't just tell me the truth, could you? You had to lie about it for god knows how long, making me feel like a complete idiot when you finally fessed up (in a public place, which I have repeatedly asked you not to do). I also remember sitting across from you at the pizza place, asking you if you were seeing someone, and you vehemently replied NO, then went on this little speech about how important I was. I told you I couldn't be around you if you were seeing someone else, and I meant it. Unlike you, I actually mean what I say. You never listen. You think that your charm and determination will eventually win me over, but you are mistaken.

I wish I could turn my feelings off and just let it all go, but I can't. You have hurt me with your lying, with your insensitivity, and your disingenuousness. I can't be content to constantly be reminded of how I'm not good enough, or even not as good as her. I can't stand the thought of you making plans with me on off nights you might not be with her, a mere stand-in for what you really want. I can't stand the thought of spending time with you, then you leaving and going home and getting into bed with her while I crawl into my perpetually empty bed of my perpetually loveless life. I don't want to see you, I don't want to see her. And I don't want you to hurt me any more. You've done enough, don't you think?

Love,
Me

Moving

I'll be mostly done moving tomorrow. And then, I'll be close to him, where he can come by and see me any time he wants. Which is pretty scary and unnerving, actually. Because the reality is that he isn't that worried about me or how I'm feeling or what I'm going through. Plus, he only gives me minimal amounts of attention when she isn't around, which is not that often. Basically, it's when she's at work. So I know that I'm only a minor distraction and that he doesn't really care about me or about spending time with me. He just cares about biding his time until she comes home. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck i hate them both

Wait a minute while I get myself together.



Ok. So yes, I'm moving, and attempting to keep it together. I have no strategies in place to help me do so. I also have very few people available to talk to about this, so I'm banking on school and work to keep me as distracted as possible. I'm also hoping that having my own place will allow me to make plans with friends and go out with friends and invite people over and then be alone when I feel like being alone.

At least that's the idea.

Being happy

Today I talked to a friend of mine that I haven't talked to in a long time. And she said that I shouldn't let him ruin my life, and that I should just blow him off and get on with my life. She has great intentions, and she knows how difficult that is, but I don't know how it's possible. I'm so deep in this crap of trying to get out of bed every day that crawling out of it seems an insurmountable task. I don't know how to change all this pain and anger into joy, which has been my problem all along. Plus my self-esteem has taken a huge beating, so things are pretty difficult.

Anyway, it's a nice thought. Distraction (and lots of it) still seems like the best way to go.

p.s. I think I'm getting strep throat.

Touched and Untouched

Today I was thinking about all the stuff I went through in high school. That crush I had on that guy when I was a freshman, and all the subsequent crushes followed closely by the trouncing I took at the whim of high school boys. When I was a freshman in college, I got close to a boy named Mike. We made out a few times, and I really liked him. Then one day he said (matter-of-factly) that he had a girlfriend and he was in love with her. Naturally, I was crushed by my crush, and bawled my eyes out for an entire evening.

And now here I am, over ten years later, still trying to get over someone crushing me like a little ugly bug. My guts oozing from the sides of his shoe. I wonder if I'll look back on this in another ten years and think of it as puppy love, as something that was silly and shallow and completely unworthy of all this pain. Or maybe those were just training for this, the real thing that would stop me in my tracks and make me wonder why I ever bothered. Back then I had the virginal belief that a man would like me and I would like him and that would be all there was, but now the less virginal me knows that I can't get a man to like me no matter how much I care for him. So things are pretty much the same as they were back then.

And I wonder, if I had known then that I would get to this point and be no further along than I was in the very beginning, when I was untouched, in body and heart. I wonder if I would have tried anyway. I wonder if I would've just put myself out of my misery before the misery came to plague me for an indeterminate length of time. Because this is the length so far: 1 year, 10 months, and 3 days. It's been that long since my heart was last in one piece, untouched by the careless whims of a high school boy masquerading in a teacher's skin.

Packing and Unpacking

Moving hasn't been all fun and games. So far I've done everything myself. The packing, the moving, the unpacking, the washing, the organizing, the heavy lifting. But packing has entailed a certain amount of unpacking of the things I put away and forgot about a long time ago. And now, here they are, back to bite me in the face. Concert ticket stubs, condoms from the clinic, vacation haikus, photographs. All things that stem from times that I thought someone cared about me. And as I remember and read, the words look so sincere on the page, but ended up being completely empty and meaningless.

He hasn't called me today. And I keept reminding myself that he is with her and doesn't have time for me anymore. I'm not special enough. and somehow he says that he has been in love with her for seven years, including the time that he was with two other women plus me and she was with someone she was going to marry until he interfered. And it's not fair that I got stuck in his crap and that he never let me know how unimportant I was in the grand scheme of things. I wish he would have let me know that he never thought of me as a long term project because I have no future.

I can't seem to fully express how much I'm hurting, but I have a compulsive need to expunge everything out of me until it's gone. Like throwing it all up so my stomach wont hurt anymore. Unpacking my heart, I guess.

This girl needs help.

I am my own worst enemy. And even worse, I have no allies. He came to my house today, the new one. I didn't want him to come into my house, so I hastily grabbed my purse and we went to the coffee place. I was shaking with fear. Fear of what I might possibly say or do. It took everything I had to keep it together, because I really wanted to break down and cry and tell him how much he hurt me and how much I still love him and how much it sickens me to think of him with this other woman and how he betrayed me and how I wish he would stop it with her because I can't handle it and it's making me crazy and I can't eat or sleep or think or function like a normal person and I wanted moving to be happy, but the more I unpack, the more I see that we never shared and now it's too late because he never gave me a chance, which is the only thing I ever wanted and now everything is ruined.

Obviously that would be a big mess. So I stayed quiet, and we talked a bit about school and classes and subjects that are safe. There were a few times I considered telling him it was a mistake to have coffee with him and run out of there, but somehow I just couldn't do it. I suppose the silver lining to the whole situation is that the experience has renewed my faith in the decision to stay away from him as much as possible.

The other thorn in my side is that I have no one that I can talk to about this. I thought I had a friend who would listen, but she is clearly tired of listening to me and has gone back into her world of hypochondria and self-absorption that prevents her from listening to anyone else's problems.

So I'm completely alone, because I lost my best friend to unrequited love and my best girlfriend to hypochondria. I have no other friends that are willing to talk to me about this. I'm going crazy with this broken heart of lead and a complete lack of support from a person I thought was my friend, which hurts me all over again.

So things were difficult to start with, and now they are even harder. Because I have to do it all myself. This girl needs help.

I hate my life. I hate my self. I want to disappear.

No past

Things are still the same, as they have been for ever. This is really no surprise, but that doesn't make it easier. I'm still second banana to pretty much everyone, and "I'd like to see you" means "here's five minutes". People wonder how I don't feel like I'm special or important, even though I am always getting brushed aside like parsley. But all day I've been wishing for something to put me out of my misery, wishing to be impaled on something big and sharp. Feeling sick to my stomach, especially when I think about his charitable five minutes before he runs off to his new lover who he thinks is waaaaaayyyy better than anything I could ever be. Because I, of course, have no future. If only I had no past, too. That's how I lost my future to begin with.

Roadkill

I am beyond help. I wish I was dead. Every time I think I might be getting my life back together, he comes along and runs me over again. And now I'm back where I started, with no progress, no love, and no hope. Fuck this life. I'm clrealy not good enough for it. If I was, someone would want me, would choose me. But as always, I'm the leftovers, the ugly girl next door that is kind of like a dog; sometimes you pet it, and sometimes you kick it. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. You'd think I would have resigned myself to being the ugly lonely girl that no one wants, because that is what I have always been. The girl standing behind me is always the one chosen. I wish I could at least be one of those kids who is chosen last for the team. I can't even get that much. So now I'm having a mental breakdown because everything I've ever been told is a lie: no one will ever love me, things will never work out for the best, and it will never happen. I am doomed to die an early, lonely death caused by getting run over when all I wanted was to get to the other side. Like roadkill.

Query

I'm not really sure where to start, except that a few minutes ago, I looked in the mirror and thought, "I'm pretty hot; why am I in bed alone?"

Good question. I suppose everyone would have their own answer, but none of them would be right. But I really wonder what it is that I don't have, because it seems that there is an LCD of what people think is beautiful, and I am obviously not it. I doesn't matter how long my hair is, or how blue my eyes are, or how much weight I've lost, I'll still never get to that ideal. Because when it gets down to it, I'll still be a geeky chick with glasses who has so many problems that I can never win, especially in realms such as these. I will never have a companion that hangs on to every word, who says that what I have to say makes sense, or is even willing to tell me I'm beautiful, despite whether or not it's actually true.

So in the end, the answer to my query is this: No matter what, I will never be hot enough to negate the fact that I am not suitable for companionship, and just need to get on with my life because there is no one and nothing out there for me. No matter what my hair looks like.