It’s been awhile since I could get my thoughts together. Feel like I’ve been going non stop for months now. I don’t think I’ve fully let myself think, even in moments of quiet I’ve forced myself not to be detailed. I truly haven’t taken time to really grieve. Breaking my boyfriend’s heart, moving, loosing my uncle, all blurred the lines between self reflection and my survival instinct.
A good friend, bought me a ticket to fly out and visit. I needed time away from it all and he graciously offered his large home to help me escape. I respect him a great deal. In a short period of time he’s become one of my closest friends. Being here has got me thinking… about my sense of being alone.
I’ve always known I’ve need to be alone. As an introvert, I truly enjoy the times I can sit alone in an empty house with me and my books. I rarely let myself do that though because the struggle is that I’m always thinking of other people and trying to help them get their thoughts together. So much so, that I have a bad habit of making everyone fall in love with me. I’ve become a talented heart breaker it seems…
I hate breaking people’s hearts, but my need to be alone and independent of others is a struggle. I can’t stop myself from caring but I also can’t bring myself to do what is best for me FIRST, instead of waiting until I’m depleted of joy and energy to finally give myself space.
In the last few days, one person I accidentally caused to fall in love with me and I have been fighting. We don’t see eye to eye on my opinion of sex and marriage. I’ve said some things and done some things simply because I know how much he feels for me and it controls his reactions to what I do and say and also his actions in life. I want so badly for him to make good decisions, to get out of a bad situation with toxic family members, and to be successful at his job. To heal from his PTSD and deal with his anxiety healthier. The more I am around him he improves, while I watch my life and sense of aloneness disparate. He wants me to be myself at my fullest, yet in order to do that I have to hurt him. This trip helped me separate myself physically from the situation and literally want to shoot myself in the head for how far I let this go before I slammed on the breaks.
The thing is what even is love? The point and purpose seems to just ruin people’s lives and make them do crazy shit.
I want to believe I’ll go home and find the right words to say to make everything turn out the way I want it to. The problem is, do I even know what I want?
I have never felt … so… defeated….