Tag: lonely

Temporary people leaving permanent memories

 

I know how some people aren’t in your life forever, that they’re just passing through.  But for some reason, I figured that was for other people and not me.  But here I am, scrolling through my Twitter feed and reading about a former friend’s new besties.  She says they’re “her life”.  I remember spending nights texting you and on the phone to you, giving you reasons to live when you were struggling.  I remember us confessing our darkest secrets to each other.  I remember watching fireworks with you, going climbing through woods with you.  I remember when things were at their worst between myself and my now-ex, you handmaking me a birthday card, giving me a big hug and whispering “please don’t kill yourself” into my ear, making me cry.

 

You got a new job, made new friends and just like that I was gone.  Awful fake excuses were made to avoid meeting up, and just like that we weren’t friends anymore.

 

The Girl I Liked, and still do even through she hurt me and some switch flicked in her head stopping her from caring.  If she ever did.  I wish I knew what I did to make her stop calling and texting and wanting to meet up or even doing me the basic courtesy of replying to me when I’m worried sick about her and her baby.  I run through all our interactions in my head on loop at night, trying desperately to find something.  I can be so oblivious sometimes, I can miss huge obvious things.  I wish I knew what was going on inside her head.  I can never be with you but I always want you in my life.  You were so good for my mental health and you were FUN, more fun than anyone else.  You lit up my day when you were around, made me the me of years ago before I became Eeyore.

 

I’ve got Facebook open and see you’re active now, messaging other people and not thinking about me at all.  I remember sitting with you while you got that tattoo a couple of weeks ago.  I remember going with you while you got your eyes examined years ago, walking you home from your first day at college, sitting with you and psyching you up for your first ever job interview.  Sitting with you and calming you down after your family embarrassed you in front of me and it broke your heart.  I remember the chocolate rabbit you got me, out of the blue, the first gift you ever got me.  I remember the day you were so depressed and I got you a t-shirt that you wanted even though it was way too big for you – and I remember the second time I saw you when we reconnected and you were wearing it, and a few weeks after giving birth it fit perfectly.  I remember the day you casually said to me as we were walking down the street, “you know I love you, right?”

 

Is it me?  Something I say or do?  I’m depressed as fuck a lot of the time and I know it shows.  I know that’s off-putting but is it really enough?  Is it because I told her she didn’t owe me anything after she told me how seriously she takes personal debts?  Maybe she just has a new best friend?  Another old friend back in her life, perhaps?

 

My ex, I understand why you cut me off, it’s better for both our sanity that we not try to be friends.  We wanted to be, but all it brought us was pain.

 

I feel awful right now.  Worse than anyone knows.  I won’t kill myself, because I believe that as long as I’m alive, no matter how bad things get, there’s a chance it’ll get better.  It has done once before when I was right on the edge.  A wonderful girl made me a birthday card and gave me a hug and reminded me that I mattered to some people.  She’s moved on now, but who knows what the future might bring?

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Not Happy Unless I’m Helping Someone

 

When I was with my ex, until the last two years I was happy.  She had her bipolar downers but I helped her through them.  She made me feel so completely loved and helping her made me feel good.

 

Then we broke up and I felt unloved and empty.

 

Reconnecting with The Girl I Liked, I was able to help talk her through many of her problems, and she always made me feel like I mattered and I felt good.

 

Then she very suddenly became apathetic, and once again I feel unloved and empty.

 

I feel completely without purpose.  Why do anything?  Goals are meaningless, and I’ll still feel unhappy once I achieve them, so why bother?

 

I prefer the company of my more fucked up friends than my well adjusted ones.   I relate to them better.  So what if I get drunk and randomly make out with someone, or even some day go further and fuck them?  It doesn’t mean anything, I likely won’t even like them when I’m sober.  Having notches on my belt doesn’t impress me, having people whose hearts I’m in does – and drunk flings don’t engender that.

 

I’m not even sure where I was going with this, I just needed to spooge it out onto your screen.

Depression and masturbation

When I was with my ex, we had sex every day.  It was amazing, with like three or four exceptions, we did every fucked up fantasy thing she and I ever wanted to do (and then I learn that friend I’m crazy about does all those three or four and probably a whole lot more).  Then we broke up and 11 months of my not having sex happened.  I’m at the point where “taking care of business” myself isn’t fun anymore.  As much as I love the internet’s infinite supply of amazing and creative free porn, I always just feeling lonely and sad afterwards.  It just reminds me of what I want the most and aren’t getting.

 

So I quit.  And my balls haven’t exploded, I haven’t become an uncontrollable horny beast.  Everything’s the same, but my internet history isn’t being deleted every day or two.  Maybe it’s the depression.  Maybe it’s being in my mid-30’s and slowing down.

 

All I know for sure is that I really miss having sex.  Kissing, holding, undressing, worshipping, fucking.  That amazing feeling from making someone cum again and again.  The way someone kisses you when they’re lost in the heat of the moment.  Laying together afterwards and having raw, emotional conversations.

 

Some day again, I hope.