There's something about ending a relationship that you thought was invincible that changes something inside of you. When you build a life in your mind that revolves around one person that you loved more than you ever thought possible and you realize all those fantasies are, well... just fantasies. When you feel empty. When you have to force yourself out of bed in the morning. When you have to tear yourself away from the computer screen on which you watched the entire series of How I Met Your Mother in just a few weeks just so that you can be reminded that your college experience didn't bring you life long friendships like Lily, Marshall, and Ted.
And I'm not exaggerating.
I'm thankful that I was able to spend my summer in Houston. God knows I'd be a complete wreck if I had tried to tough it out in Waco. And thank God I didn't have to try an endure finals on top of everything else that happened. Thank God for friends like Sami, Moe, Leo, and all of the other wonderful people I met for being there. I miss everyone terribly.
I'm not gonna lie, I spent most of my summer trying to drown out my thoughts with nightly trips to The Flying Saucer and endless socialization. Trying to fill the void where Abby used to be with bubbly, amber goodness. I'm really just walking around in this shell that looks like me on the outside. But it doesn't feel like me on the inside. It doesn't feel like anything, really. Sometimes it feels like anger, which is the closest thing to feeling alive. Sometimes it feels like drunk, which is really just to mute the sad, which seems to be ever-present.
You'd think six months would have made this easier.
This all sounds so emo and childish and I hate that it's so real. It's just stupid. It makes me feel stupid. And that's why I try not to talk about it. First, because I don't want to be that person always whining about their ex, because who wants to hang out with that person (but I'm that person way more often than I'd care to admit)? Second, because I know it's stupid and I don't want to feel these things or think about those people but it won't go away. No matter what I'm doing or who I'm with, it's in the back of my mind.
And because of this, I'm afraid of everyone. I don't trust anyone. I try so hard to let my guard down and let people in, but I can't anymore. I prefer the loneliness, I guess. I've noticed recently that I can't even make eye contact with people. It makes me uncomfortable, like they're going to see something about me that isn't worth liking.
He emailed me on Sunday. Said he was in Denver and Five Iron Frenzy asked about me. I lashed out and told him he's never to answer for me since he's shown that he can't properly represent me. I told him not to ask about me. That I didn't want to be his business and I didn't want him to be mine. I almost ended my response with, "I still love you and I hate it," but I decided it was unnecessary and I deleted it. But it's true. For some stupid reason, I still love this man who lies and schemes and manipulates and I loathe myself for it. I should hate him. I should despise him. Yet I think about him nearly every second of every day. I dream about him. I've dreamed about having conversations with him that go absolutely nowhere. And I hate how I feel after waking up.
I hate being back in Waco. There's too much here. But I have to get a degree. I hate you, America, for basically making college mandatory. And so expensive. It isn't fair. Some of us just can't handle it. There's too much pressure to conform to too many people's ideas of who you should and shouldn't be. All I want is to be left alone.
I don't have the energy to deal with Baylor again. I'm going to crack under the pressure. I'm going to disappoint more people. I just don't feel ready to go back. I'm afraid. I just don't care anymore. Other people care so much about grades and GPA and they don't realize that there's more to life than the number 4.
My parents don't believe in therapy. I wish I could change that because I honestly need it. I don't need medicine, I just need someone to talk to. A professional. Someone who can help me come to terms with things I've experienced in college because it hasn't been pretty.
There are people I wish I had never met. Things I wish I had never done. But I have to remember that regret can't change the past.
I'm sorry if this has been ridiculously depressing and slightly worrisome. I just thought it was fair that everyone knew what my brain was up to. I miss Houston. I miss Home.
