Here I am again. If I don’t write this down now, I won’t sleep for the entire night. Why does it always have to be like this? I feel so incredibly stupid again, thinking that there is something between us. Something that has made us reach out to each other for the past four years. But on days like these, I realize: how many more girls are there? How many of them have you been sharing your life with over the past few years? Am I really this egocentric, thinking that I may be someone special to you? That all these years, all these moments, meant the same to you as they did to me? I guess so. Truth be told, it is my own fault. I realize that. I never tried and I never gave you the possibility to try. But because of that, after all this time, I’m the one who’s still alone. Simply because no one compares to you and for that I am not able to let them in. Not even the slightest bit. I really thought I’d be able to forget you. Because that’s how it goes, right? Time makes you forget things. Except that it doesn’t. It doesn’t at all. And I should be telling this to you. Not to a blank page on the internet that no one will read. And certainly not you. Hell, if you would, you’d think I’m ridiculous. And you would probably be right too.
I’m reading my first posts on tumblr. About him. Him, him, him. It’s always about him. It has been ever since we met. Four and a half years ago now. Four and a half years. That’s a whole lot of days. I’ve lost a lot of things and people since the day we met. But not him. Oh no, not him. I can’t understand how I’m still in this self destructing mess. I can’t understand how I’ve been strong enough to stand on my own feet for the past years, but still not strong enough to give him up. It’s not that I haven’t tried. There were times we didn’t talk for months. There were even times I didn’t feel the need to talk to him at all. I was doing quite well. I thought we were going in the right direction. And then this whole thing turned around. I don’t know how it got this intense again all of a sudden. Because I still remember me sitting here and giving a very small amount of shit about you having a girlfriend. But here I am. Again. At this point, all I want to do is scream: “WHY DID WE NEVER EVEN GIVE IT A TRY?” But I can’t. I know what your answer will be. And I know we’ve had this conversation before about a million times. It won’t change anything. I’ll just be even more hurt. I’ll just be even more lost in my own life. And I hate myself for that.
Basically the sentence that’s been spooking through my mind for the past few days. I met a girl whom I really connected with, and we went out for a couple times this week. Real fun at night, real holy-fucking-mother-of-christ-my-head-hurts-and-I-will-never-go-out-again-during-weekdays the next morning. At least, that’s what I was thinking wednesdaymorning. Yet today we are friday and I’m having the EXACT same thought. Mixed feelings overhere. I absolutely love having fun again and enjoying being young. I do rarely enough. When you hop on the hey-I-hate-studying-so-I-guess-I’m-just-going-to-look-for-a-job-train at barely 18, you kinda HAVE to party during weekdays. You know, missing out of stuff and all. Then, when you also hop on the my-parents-are-awful-so-I’m-moving-out-and-renting-something-on-my-own-train, you have to choose between going out and living in a mess or staying home and living in a clean house. I guess you already know which one I picked. If I only go home to get some sleep, I don’t even have to face the mess. Definite win-win situation. See how I’m pulling this off like a true surviver? Yes. Me too.