I write about things as they happen on tumblr, with the result that I rarely write about anything on here.
So David happened. Again. He messaged me the other day saying that he'd found some more of my things, that he'd drive them up. So I was angry. Really angry. I mean seriously, it has nearly been two years since he left me, and he hasn't found a single afternoon in all that time to go through the things in his back room to separate out my stuff from his. I thought when I went down in March, it was to get all of my things. I thought that was how the plan was supposed to go. But here I am, in fucking September, with him still having more of my stuff. He is just so incompetent. Is he doing this just so he can keep shoving himself back in to my life? Is this a control thing? I kept asking him to tell me when he was leaving (for a holiday to America), so that I could just go down and get it myself, seeing as how he can't do it. But he refused to tell me. I must have asked him at least ten times. I was angry. It got nasty. He told me I needed help, making more cracks on my mental stability after the man left me to kill myself. Like, how fucking dare he? I am not unreasonable in being completely irate for the fact that he has failed to do one simple thing he said he would do. I am not unreasonable for being completely irate about how and why he left me. But he doesn't see that, all he thinks is that I'm unstable and stupid and unreasonable.
So I got mean. Seriously mean. And it helped, I felt better. And I didn't even care. It felt good to hurt him. If I can hurt him even a tiny fraction of the amount that he hurt me, than good. I told him that he only "went out of his way" (his words, not mine) to help me when I went to get my stuff in March was because I let him think that things were ok. It wasn't really how it went down at the time, but it's how I feel now. He was a little shocked. I basically said that I talked to him, sent him nudes, "shared secrets", "let him believe we were friends", and fucked him just to get my stuff back. Which yea, is how I feel about it now.
And then he told me that he still loves me. Cue the "I'm sorry and I fucked up and I want to make it better" and seriously, I am so sick of hearing it. He fucked up. He fucked up beyond repair. I am so sick of him bringing it up, and telling me he loves me? What even is that? He messages me, gets upset when I get reasonably angry at him, takes cheap shots at my mental stability, gets upset when I say mean things that aren't completely unreasonable for me to say, and then to counter that, tells me that he still loves me and wants to talk about things rationally. As soon as I start acting like he is, then it's time to sit down and talk about things like adults. I don't think so. I don't want to talk about things. I am so down with talking about things. I just want my things back, and I'll be quite happy to never see him again. I don't care that he still loves me. I don't care that he's upset about how things turned out, about the choices that only he made that influenced how things turned out. I just simple do not care. It took me a hell of a long time to get over this, to be ok with how he left me and I how felt. Not to mention the fact that my crippling depression "forced" this. As if that was something I needed on top of him leaving. It had taken me up until a couple of months ago to even feel remotely like a person again. And now I'm on meds that are working and in therapy and I'm functioning and things are ok, and he does this, again. I am finally at a place where I am fine with the fact that he left me, happy about it even (because if he didn't, I'd probably be worse and have never gotten to this point with myself), and he just jumps in with more of my stuff and his incompetence, and his "I still love you" lines and seriously, I could not care less.
So anyway. When I go down for Fall Out Boy I'll be getting my stuff. I don't even know what's there, but it's obvious that I don't miss it. I told him I'd drive down and get it, and he refused to tell me when he wouldn't be there. And I'm refusing to have him drive up here. Mostly just because I don't want to have him here, and because I'm really not even sure he would. I mean, it's been two years nearly. How am I supposed to believe him? I did suggest to him that he just sort it out and take it to Alex's so that I could just pick it up whenever, but he ignored me. And so I'll get it when I'm there for the concert, take it to Alex's and sort through it and decide what to bring back on the plane. I know that Alex won't mind keeping stuff for me, especially because I'll be back there two weeks after. Hopefully I will not have to spend any more time with him than necessary to just somehow get my stuff from Haberfield to Lilyfield. As it stands, I'm not sure how that will happen. Maybe Mel will drive it? I don't want David to drive me because then he might just not leave, and I really do not want to spend time with him.
I just want to get my things back and then never really have to talk to him again. I am sick of him and of this situation and of his attempts to fix the unfixable. I won't forgive him for what he did, and it's ridiculous for him to expect me to. I don't want to be his friend. I don't ever want to get back with him. In a way, I'm a little happy he's still in love with me, because maybe he'll feel a tiny bit of the pain that I've felt for so long.
Anyway. That was a few days ago and I'm over it now. And I haven't heard from him again since so it's all ok. Other stuff going on is just work and study and going to the gym and trying to stay functional. I've been doing good since I last went downhill, but sometimes I feel it creeping back in, and I try to beat it. I beat it the other day by forcing Mel to slice at work. That was fun.
Things are a bit weird with people. I don't know what's going on with Jes. Most of the time I just don't know what goes on with me and other people. I also don't know what's going on with J. I really want to go and see her, but I'm never certain if she wants me to. I get confused about how I feel about her, about how she might feel about me. Sometimes I get some indications and I think that maybe I should go and see her, maybe she does want to see me, maybe something could happen, but I never feel like I know for sure. Add on top of the fact that she's been in and out of hospital lately, and she doesn't always reply to messages, and so I just don't know. I do want to see her. I do want to think that something could eventuate, but I don't know. I just don't know, and I just want to know. I really, really want to know. (But maybe it would be silly to try to pursue something, with distance and uncertainty and instability.)
So David happened. Again. He messaged me the other day saying that he'd found some more of my things, that he'd drive them up. So I was angry. Really angry. I mean seriously, it has nearly been two years since he left me, and he hasn't found a single afternoon in all that time to go through the things in his back room to separate out my stuff from his. I thought when I went down in March, it was to get all of my things. I thought that was how the plan was supposed to go. But here I am, in fucking September, with him still having more of my stuff. He is just so incompetent. Is he doing this just so he can keep shoving himself back in to my life? Is this a control thing? I kept asking him to tell me when he was leaving (for a holiday to America), so that I could just go down and get it myself, seeing as how he can't do it. But he refused to tell me. I must have asked him at least ten times. I was angry. It got nasty. He told me I needed help, making more cracks on my mental stability after the man left me to kill myself. Like, how fucking dare he? I am not unreasonable in being completely irate for the fact that he has failed to do one simple thing he said he would do. I am not unreasonable for being completely irate about how and why he left me. But he doesn't see that, all he thinks is that I'm unstable and stupid and unreasonable.
So I got mean. Seriously mean. And it helped, I felt better. And I didn't even care. It felt good to hurt him. If I can hurt him even a tiny fraction of the amount that he hurt me, than good. I told him that he only "went out of his way" (his words, not mine) to help me when I went to get my stuff in March was because I let him think that things were ok. It wasn't really how it went down at the time, but it's how I feel now. He was a little shocked. I basically said that I talked to him, sent him nudes, "shared secrets", "let him believe we were friends", and fucked him just to get my stuff back. Which yea, is how I feel about it now.
And then he told me that he still loves me. Cue the "I'm sorry and I fucked up and I want to make it better" and seriously, I am so sick of hearing it. He fucked up. He fucked up beyond repair. I am so sick of him bringing it up, and telling me he loves me? What even is that? He messages me, gets upset when I get reasonably angry at him, takes cheap shots at my mental stability, gets upset when I say mean things that aren't completely unreasonable for me to say, and then to counter that, tells me that he still loves me and wants to talk about things rationally. As soon as I start acting like he is, then it's time to sit down and talk about things like adults. I don't think so. I don't want to talk about things. I am so down with talking about things. I just want my things back, and I'll be quite happy to never see him again. I don't care that he still loves me. I don't care that he's upset about how things turned out, about the choices that only he made that influenced how things turned out. I just simple do not care. It took me a hell of a long time to get over this, to be ok with how he left me and I how felt. Not to mention the fact that my crippling depression "forced" this. As if that was something I needed on top of him leaving. It had taken me up until a couple of months ago to even feel remotely like a person again. And now I'm on meds that are working and in therapy and I'm functioning and things are ok, and he does this, again. I am finally at a place where I am fine with the fact that he left me, happy about it even (because if he didn't, I'd probably be worse and have never gotten to this point with myself), and he just jumps in with more of my stuff and his incompetence, and his "I still love you" lines and seriously, I could not care less.
So anyway. When I go down for Fall Out Boy I'll be getting my stuff. I don't even know what's there, but it's obvious that I don't miss it. I told him I'd drive down and get it, and he refused to tell me when he wouldn't be there. And I'm refusing to have him drive up here. Mostly just because I don't want to have him here, and because I'm really not even sure he would. I mean, it's been two years nearly. How am I supposed to believe him? I did suggest to him that he just sort it out and take it to Alex's so that I could just pick it up whenever, but he ignored me. And so I'll get it when I'm there for the concert, take it to Alex's and sort through it and decide what to bring back on the plane. I know that Alex won't mind keeping stuff for me, especially because I'll be back there two weeks after. Hopefully I will not have to spend any more time with him than necessary to just somehow get my stuff from Haberfield to Lilyfield. As it stands, I'm not sure how that will happen. Maybe Mel will drive it? I don't want David to drive me because then he might just not leave, and I really do not want to spend time with him.
I just want to get my things back and then never really have to talk to him again. I am sick of him and of this situation and of his attempts to fix the unfixable. I won't forgive him for what he did, and it's ridiculous for him to expect me to. I don't want to be his friend. I don't ever want to get back with him. In a way, I'm a little happy he's still in love with me, because maybe he'll feel a tiny bit of the pain that I've felt for so long.
Anyway. That was a few days ago and I'm over it now. And I haven't heard from him again since so it's all ok. Other stuff going on is just work and study and going to the gym and trying to stay functional. I've been doing good since I last went downhill, but sometimes I feel it creeping back in, and I try to beat it. I beat it the other day by forcing Mel to slice at work. That was fun.
Things are a bit weird with people. I don't know what's going on with Jes. Most of the time I just don't know what goes on with me and other people. I also don't know what's going on with J. I really want to go and see her, but I'm never certain if she wants me to. I get confused about how I feel about her, about how she might feel about me. Sometimes I get some indications and I think that maybe I should go and see her, maybe she does want to see me, maybe something could happen, but I never feel like I know for sure. Add on top of the fact that she's been in and out of hospital lately, and she doesn't always reply to messages, and so I just don't know. I do want to see her. I do want to think that something could eventuate, but I don't know. I just don't know, and I just want to know. I really, really want to know. (But maybe it would be silly to try to pursue something, with distance and uncertainty and instability.)
19:27
What. A. Cunt. He probably just can't justify to himself why he left you like he did, in the state that he did, so he's trying to make himself feel better. God men can be so totally stupid some times...
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