I now feel so crappy that I don't have the energy to have crappy feelings. 

Good job science. 

I just can't fucking do this. This people thing, this love thing. 

I watched Community and tried not to cry and wondered if I hate myself. That would explain the hopeless pursuit of horribly wrong, emotionally inadequate boys who only make me miserable and pathetic in a million different ways. 

I want it to stop hurting so fucking much. I want to stop being capable of this crippling emotion. I want to stop believing in the right one because there is no such fucking thing, just different levels of settling. I don't know how other people can do this, keep doing this. Perhaps they don't invest in these things as much, is that it? Are significant others just a necessary social accessory or something, a generic space to fill with vaguely suitable suitors? Are they just so much stronger then I am or what? What is it? Because whatever it is I need to learn that, practice that somehow.

For me there's only apathy or heart-wrenching shite, either I don't care at all or I throw all I bloody have into it. I can't calmly care about someone or sort of love someone and I don't know any other way to be. I get worked up about the things and people important to me. I did want it, have really only wanted this, to love and be loved, to find someone who is right and commit to them. The sort of someone who makes me feel more and want to be more.   

Enough. 22 years of feeling unwanted and being heartbroken thrice. Enough. 

Romantic love can go fuck itself. I'm nowhere near better but I'm setting the terms from now on as a really bloody belated self-preservation measure that I should have gone with 9 months ago. I won't do love anymore, just base needs and amusement. 

And if I happen to be so blessed as to string along a few suckers for company before I die, well about damn time for some justice. If I don't break their hearts, they'll break mine. Just a matter of goddamn time.  

I watched Love and Other Drugs again tonight. 

The last time I watched it, I thought of you and missed you and felt hope for us. Tonight I didn't feel anything at all. I don't know what this means.

It's been a relatively good three days after three weeks of very bad ones. Staying out and having company makes all the difference for sanity. It's been good enough that some things seem ridiculous now. I feel almost normal, human, myself again instead of just suffocatingly miserable. Almost. But I remember the bad days.

I really don't know if I'm getting any better at all or just getting better at denial.   

I've been told several times in last week that I should talk to someone, that talking will help relieve some of the pressure and restore some sanity. But I do talk to people. When I need advice, guidance, reassurance, I seek out the people who I know know better and who are kind enough to listen. Talking to them, then, has a result, goals I can work towards like an improved solution to something or just a better understanding of something else. I understand the trade-off here, you cannot get proper help unless you lay yourself bare and be truthful.  

But talking for the sake of talking when nothing can be done, I don't understand that. How does talking lessen grief and ease the pressure of being, how. You can talk as long as you like but when you stop, nothing has changed and you return to dealing with the shit you had in the beginning except that you have wasted some time in pointless verbal exhalation. 

If you're sad, you find something distracting, something cheering. If you're angry, you figure out why and deal with it. If you're stressed, you compartmentalize your head and try to take things on separately instead of going crazy. These are logical coping mechanisms because action is taken. Talking is not an action. Talking is not an answer. Not for me.  

It feels like there isn't enough humour in the world to get over this suffocating feeling, this utter demoralisation or being so so sad it overwhelms and paralyzes.

I hate being so soft and weak. I hate people. I hate hearts.

And I know that all of this is so goddamn trivial relative to so many other things out there. I just wish I could feel that. 

I don't struggle to find hopeful loopholes or get angry about this anymore. I am resigned but not that does not mean that I am not afraid.

I've accepted the situation and I suppose that is some progress but I still worry a lot. About whether I'll be able to move on completely before I leave and what Japan will be like if I can't.

I worry that even if I get over all this, I'll realise much later that he wasn't just another guy, that he was the right one. But if that feeling isn't mutual then he can't really be right?

Trivialities aside, in many ways I could want nothing more, can't think of anyone better. He isn't just convenient or current, he feels right.

Posted via LiveJournal app for Android.

So. I've been chatting online with someone who was the cause of a great deal of heartache and minor insanity last year. While I never really got closure, I don't feel the way I used to (thankfully) and have pretty much moved on to Fresher Varieties of Heartache. But that's for another time.

After one non-meeting and several months of non-communication, he's chatting me up online. Bored at work I imagine, fair enough since after all, I am amazing, literate and overflowing with charm. Unhealthy and inappropriate fascination with personal life however, not so logical and completely confusing. Last night really took the ticket though.

Try to imagine, if you will, being really hung up over someone. You think the sun shines out of their ass but other than a strange, complicated friendship there lies no future with them. You lay yourself utterly vulnerable to them. You're sure they know how you feel, have declared it several times and demonstrated as much. A cool goodbye is eventually all you receive, leaving you unrequited and devastated. No further mention is ever made to this and you summon the masochism to keep random friendly chats going every now and then. Now finally, after all that drama, longing and heartbreak, you find out that they more or less think that you're a promiscuous, flighty skank who is content with getting action.

The fuck. THE FUCK. To clarify, this conversation happened at ass o'clock so the only response I was able to summon at the time was annoyance. Truth be told, I should be angry, I would have been angry months ago. But today I don't care quite as much. I am really more generally offended than anything else but with the context of last year and after all that THIS IS WHAT YOU THINK OF ME? My god.

Thank you, thank you you dense, self-centered asshole. I have long moved on from giving a rat's ass about you specifically but this is truly closure. I can think of no better case against ever even considering wasting more time and effort on you. Bastard.          

I'd like to think that I won't do so badly this term, that I'll get that internship with the creative firm. It'll be hard work but good work which makes me feel alive. Being there will help me sort out my brain and heart. I'll walk stronger, stand taller and laugh more. I will remember how to stand on my own but without bitterness and a sincere Fuck Off to my many insecurities. Savour the feeling of value and being good at something. Stop needing people but still be willing to love. Maybe even start fresh, do things properly this time. Leave for Japan whole, healed and with a fond promise to come back to.

I would like the next five months to be like this please.

The problem is the tearing. It isn't crying, not really. It's the same sort of start-stop crying that happened when my grandfather passed away. Very little things would trigger it aklthough I didn't feel much of anything. Just very empty and quite tired.

I throw in all the love I possibly can yet it is continually found to be inadequate. No matter how much I give or do, he is still going to leave. I feel like I have failed as a person. 

All I have to show for it are a few photographs. God I know I'm still young and I have to believe that this is just the beginning but all I can think of is how much more.

It's so fucking hard to give up being happy, being held, feeling worthwhile when that's all I really want.