Accepting a relationship is over; is hard. It gives you that feeling where you want to cry, but when you start crying you can’t catch your breath and so you feel like you’re hyperventilating? That feeling where in between tears you say shit like “oh my god” half because you can’t believe that you feel so low and half because you actually might die if you don’t catch your next breath in time? Well THAT is how I feel!
I don’t feel like smiling and laughing … I’m sorry I just don’t. I mean apart from when I look at my son and I feel like the luckiest woman in the world, so incredibly in love and in awe of this perfect human being; when I go back to just being a woman who has been scorned by love … I don’t feel as amazing as my son makes me feel. Not even almost.
Don’t play with me because you have nothing better to do.
Don’t tell me you love me because you know it will keep me weak enough to stay around.
Don’t tell me I’m the one if you mean ‘the one right now’
Just don’t play with my feelings because when I get hurt … sorry doesn’t feel half as good as it sounds.
Every girl says this and I’m sure every girl means it, whether or not she pulls through is a next subject altogether.
I meet a lot of guys, I care about a few and I fall hard for even less; therefore I cannot, will not and do not wish to be superwomen to them all.
If they’re looking for the female that will offer them the world, put up with their bullshit, love them when they least deserve it, wipe their tears, help build their blocks up when the world knocks em down and learn how to put herself last just so she can be there when he needs to come first – well I can’t help them. But for him? For him I can, was and wanted to be all that and more.
When I left, so did the woman who was willing to stay up with you when you couldn’t sleep at night, listen to the same stories over and over again just because they made you feel alive when you told them, fight your battles for you even though you’re capable of fighting them yourself, push you when you weren’t reaching your full potential; you lost a woman who was willing to be your girlfriend, your best friend and most importantly your partner. I was capable of making you better because I loved you enough to see how much you truly deserved.
I haven’t given up on us.
I never ever ever ever ever ever ever could.
I’ve just accepted that I’ve sat and waited for him to realise he needs me enough to force this to work, through blood, sweat and tears … and it hasn’t happened.
For my sanity – it’s time to move on – it really is.
I know he hates appearing in my blog, I don’t blame him; a lot of it isn’t positive … but it’s all honest.
I blog about things I care about, usually the things that hurt me more so than the things that are making me happy; that’s something I need to work on individually but I guess I just wish he knew that appearing in my blog means that the flames still burning for you … the minute it goes out he won’t feature half as often – if at all.
I waited ..
Nobody can wait forever.
It’s this very thought that is enabling me to start this grieving process …
I know I talk about it like it’s a death, but to me it is. It’s the death of my dream, my fairy tale, my wish.
And on that note …
I’m gonna hit the sack because it’s 2.21 in the morning, my little prince is asleep and if I stay up anymore I’m gonna cry again and I refuse to do it.
I’ve cried more than enough tears.