Monday, July 30, 2007
for some reason,
i'm never able to do things right.
however hard i try, it doesn't seem good enough.
it could always have been a little better,
a little earlier.
i could have just stayed home to begin with or something
I got home tonight,
just, completely torn up and upset.
everything seemed wrong,
i just hated myself, i didn't fit in.
why couldn't i be perfect like everyone else?
my battery flat, i called him to say i was home, but he was still mad at me.
It's not undeserved really.
i did say i'd be home by 11.30 or thereabouts.
i just didn't update him when we all agreed to cab it back together.
honestly,
i lost track of time. i didn't know it was so late already.
with my dead phone,
and leaving behind the idea of drowning myself in a friend's pool,
i said my goodbyes and caught a cab home by myself.
karaoke night,
but why am i even bothering to sing when i'm not the one in the finals.
ultra sensitive,
i feel just that little bit more different.
i'm out of the competition, what am i still doing at a party where every one's in the finals.
except the host of course,
but that's different because she's the host.
as much as the party was fun,
in a very wholesome clean way,
and Katrina is really the sweetest,
i left the party wondering why i went in the first place.
Of course, everything else tumbles nicely into place, doesn't it?
how he doesn't believe that i love him, he doesn't feel it.
but i don't have anything left,
i only have my words.
and he's cautious enough to take everything i say with a pinch of salt.
smart boy.
because who can trust me, after all?
I'm charis.
i don't even know if i trust myself.
Over the last couple of weeks i've managed to fall into depression, bounce back up and slowly,
backslide into it again.
but who cares right?
because everyone of us have shit to worry about.
O levels in, what, two months?
There's more important things to worry about.
nights can't be spent crying.
But is it really that wrong?
to still fall asleep every single night imagining that you're holding me tight to you?
oh aren't i just a pathetic sod really.
crying over a long gone ex who, quite obviously,
isn't going through the same shit i am.
while i feast, on the occasional i love yous that fall like crumbs from a rich man's table,
i say my i love yous like they're free,
and he doesn't feel it, he doesn't believe.
what a reversal of roles.
and God how disgustingly pathetic i've become.
smiling, desperately catching his every smile.
willing my phone to ring,
and crying to memories which aren't mine to keep.
what a mess,
and here i am, crying just as i type all this out.
"would you be free..."
and i jump up screaming yes before he finishes his bloody sentence.
disgusting, absolutely disgusting.
of course in the end he cancels, with apologies and such, such
adorable eyes that you'd just have to be blind deaf and cynical to hold anything against him.
why.
i don't understand why i subject myself to this.
how can i be so terribly in love with someone whom,
i know for sure doesn't love me like he used to?
why do i still think about kids we were supposed to have together and the way they'll hurl themselves into his arms screaming "daddy".
why do i still cry,
thinking about how i still think of all this,
and typing it out as it comes.
why is it still him i see when i close my eyes,
his smell that i breathe and his skin i swear is right under my fingertips.
how can it be,
when the inevitable is fast approaching.
and i know that, it won't be very long before,
he looks at me and says that,
finally, finally,
i am no more than nothing to him.
Why do i hold on to him for as long as he'll hold onto me,
and as a result,
be the last to let go,
and cry the goodbye tears that i realize i haven't really run out of since the day he left.
i'm not playing my sympathy card here,
i'm really just thinking aloud.
because the truth is,
i'd have it no other way.
for as long as he wants to know my whereabouts, scream at me for not keeping to my own curfew,
i'll let him.
for as long as he feels he needs to call me before he can sleep and text me at least once in a day,
i'll reply.
because i need that just as much, and even more than he does.
and as much as it kills me, after all that,
to watch him laugh and wrap his arm around a hotter, more deserving girl,
i'll smile for him and be happy.
because i am, as long as he is, i swear.
how can he ever want to still be with me after all that i've done to him anyway?
the nights i've made him stay up worrying about me,
the tears he's cried when i took his love for granted.
i haven't yet, but i suppose i will have to learn to,
accept that while i really did find a perfect other half,
i ruined my chance.
i've seen another side of him, and he has seen this ugly side of me as well.
and because no one expects the other to just get over something like this,
one shouldn't expect to see a revival of her ruined relationship.
Still,
it's nice to have something to hold on to and believe in.
something to keep you going,
and someone to tell you, even if it's only occasionally,
that they love you. very much in fact.
oh how cheap.
some random bloke reading this sodding post would probably think
he just has to tell me he loves me for a free fuck.
ugh.
i sound horrible.
"That's love" isn't an answer.
because no, this isn't love.
it's a one sided, hopeless relationship where i love someone,
but he doesn't know/believe/feel it and where
he, says he does, occasionally,
and i have to live with that and keeping hoping, praying and wishing that
something, a little anything,
will come of that.
and when the question "does he still love you?" is posed to me,
i smile, blush a little and go,
"well i guess so."
I know he used to love me.
very much, in fact.
He pampered me and spoiled me and was just really,
the most perfect boyfriend you could ask for and the most perfect son in law you could ever dream of having.
now,
well sometimes the stuff he says or does makes me realize that a part of him still loves me,
in some ways.
or shall we say, cares for me deeply.
It's the tiniest things really.
There's a part of me that's like,
so freaking sure he loves me.
Like,
"does he love you?"
"yea. he does. and i still love him too"
sweet,
but another part of me's starting to be like,
"well i don't know really"
One thing i do know for sure,
that a much as he loves me now, he doesn't love me as much as last time.
and that's only right now.
so naturally i'm thinking,
that give it a couple more months and pretty soon,
he won't love me anymore.
well,
not in that way anyway.
Which explains the very detailed and repetitive,
very lengthy post about all this.
It actually stemmed from my depression over tonight but well.
little things like him climbing out of bed to call me still gets to me,
and like yea,
he loves me if he does that right?
but i don't know if he still will by say, the end of this year or something.
anyway, i really should head to bed.
It's three in the morning and i'm starting to hear very disturbing sounds and keep on imagining a dead girl with long hair and no eyes creaking after me.
this is the first time in ages i've had this kinda odd feeling.
and i'm hearing weird creaking noises coming from outside the flat.
you know, the kind that you hear in movies right before some dead girl crawls out and grabs your leg.
OMFG
I NEED TO FUCKING SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET INTO BED WITHOUT SCARING MYSELF.
THERE IS NO FUCKING DEAD GIRL COMING AFTER ME.
The Lord will protect me from evil that lurks and seeks me as prey.
shutting up --
- xoxo
charis loves you
3:16 AM
peeeeektooores!(: