Warning: extreme emotional content ahead

Warning: extreme emotional and slightly dramatic content ahead.

This is what my conclusion is as of late:

I’ve been so angry and so bitter and in such shock (still) for the last five and a half months that I haven’t really taken the time to really examine what exactly is broken and damaged.

Yeah, I’ve been putting myself back together all summer and into this semester. I know that I’m doing better. I’ve ignored things that keep on coming up and I push memories way back into my head. I am not okay with what happened in May…but I’ve accepted that it did happen. It did happen and I have every right to be angry and bitter and to just push forward without really giving it a second thought. I’ve had my moments when what happened in May comes out of nowhere and hits me so hard that I forget to breathe. And then I get too angry that I just ignore it and push forward. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction that he broke me and I don’t want to let myself what it feels like to broken. I don’t want to hurt, and I do not want to feel weak. That is what I have trained myself in for the last three years. Showing weakness interrupts my life along with the ones around me. I have learned that the hard way. Plus, I don’t have the time to feel weak or broken, so I’ve pushed it aside and put myself back together. I’ve focused on other things, setting achievable and tangible goals and pushing forward. I haven’t given myself any reason, chance or time to be hurt or sad. That is just the way things are.

But some things have come up in my life lately that has forced me to take the time and assess the damage. I’ve realized that even though I have made a lot of progress in my every day life, it will mean nothing if I really don’t take the time to figure out what is really wrong and try to overcome it. It has the potential to follow me for the rest of my life.

And this is what I’ve come up with:

I am afraid. I think about how perfect everything was and how our story couldn’t have been more perfectly constructed. We were best friends, we earned each other’s trust, we taught each other new things when it came to relationships and learned how to function while being apart. I trusted him with everything. There wasn’t a part of me that he didn’t know and in turn, he began to trust me with everything. It amazed me everyday how well functioning our relationship was. We gave and took equally and communicated about everything. We voiced our fears, concerns, hopes and dreams and encouraged each other and walked through our trials hand in hand. I think about how much he knew about me and how much I entrusted him with. I think about how he knew my faults and imperfections and how he told me he loved me for them. I think about how much of myself I gave to him and how I can’t express in words how far I let him in. And then I realize the giant hole in my being when I think about what was there and what went missing.

And after the events in May, I don’t know how much of that was true. I don’t know how much of our relationship was real. And after he had worked so hard to break my trust barriers down, I never thought he would betray my trust. I never thought he would do that. Never saw it coming. Maybe that is why things are so hard. I never saw this coming.

And now, I realize that I can’t be excited about harmless flirting or crushes or cute gestures. I get this intense rush of panic. Sheer, utter panic. Sometimes, I’ll be in the middle of my homework, sitting in the Crossroads during the busiest time of the day and something will cross my mind and before I realize it, I’m almost hyperventilating. HOW RIDICULOUS! I think about how the last time I was in a similar situation, how I got into something so serious that I planned my future around it and how that future fell down and how I was left alone with no idea where to go or how to move forward. I realize that I can’t trust anyone new. I can’t rely on them to always be there, because the person who I never thought would leave me, did. No matter how nice or kind or constant or consistent they are, I can’t bring myself to trust them to be real friends. I realize that I have a problem with flirting and getting attention from boys and such because all’s I can see is what will happen in the end. I see a serious relationship, and then I see an end. I get ahead of myself and assume the worse. I shouldn’t think about those things when nothing remotely serious has come about. Spending time with a guy doesn’t mean that they are going to try to get me to promise to marry them and then just drop me. Right?

And the thing that scares me the most is that I realize that I might not find someone else willing and wanting to learn about me and share things with me like he did. Someone who wants to know every little detail about me, end their day with me and listen to my pointless stories and obsessions about pelican statues and Lord of the Rings. And even if I did find someone like that, I would probably never give them the chance to learn about me, because I have the fear that they would just get up and walk away with another piece of me. I wouldn’t let them far enough in to even consider it.

I feel very guarded. I can almost see the brick walls that I have built around myself. I can feel the panic start to build when I spend a little too much time with someone new or I start talking about something deeper then I would normally talk about. And now, as I write this, I panic because I fear that I will never let myself be able to go for it again. Will I be on my own for the rest of my life because of my fears?

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that I have to feel this damaged and this scared and totally unsafe in the presence of others. It makes me so unbelievably angry that I can’t give new people the chance to learn about me, and that I have melt downs when I think about getting close to someone new. I know that they say it is always better to have loved and lost then to not have loved at all. I think that I don’t have a problem with loving as much as I am having a problem with being loved.

I’m angry. I’m trying to let it go, and I am trying to move forward. Some days are better then others. I want to let it go and move on with my life. I don’t want to be afraid of these things, but I don’t know how to go about fixing them. Maybe all of these feelings are delayed. Maybe I should have let myself feel these things sooner.

But like I said, I don’t like feeling like this. I don’t like showing that I am broken. But the truth is, I am a mess. No one has really seen that, but if I am being totally honest, I hurt constantly. And I know that he didn’t do anything to you, and I know that you still see him as the goofy, fun Californian from Fall semester, but for gosh sakes, I am your friend too. And he has lots of things to sustain him and keep him busy, and I am the one left behind, trying to move forward. Me.

I need closure.

Closure that hasn’t come and probably won’t.

It isn’t fair that you left me like this, with so much damaged and no way of getting my unanswered questions asked or the ability to put myself back together. It isn’t fair that I have to work so hard to put myself back together, and that I have to do it by myself. It is not fair that you broke me, but that you also took away one of the only friends who I would have turned to for comfort. You broke every promise you made to me, you lied to me, you used me, you took my secrets and you left me.

You ran.

And I hate you for that.