I lied, you know. I said some things that weren’t true to spare your feelings and conscience while clouding my own. Shame on me for being less than 100% honest because it is me that is losing sleep now.
I am angry with myself that I feel genuine surprise that we ended up here, or rather that I did. I am hurt and more to the point, disappointed. There aren’t enough words to describe how much.
It’s your loss.
You can’t ever say I didn’t try.
“I told you. You don’t love someone because of their looks or their clothes or their car. You love them because they sing a song only your heart can understand.”
I trust you implicitly. Everything you say, everything you do. I always have, with no question, no doubt, no second guessing myself and my own faith in you. I know with absolute certainty that this is why I’m so terrified.
I don’t trust myself to not make a mess of everything.
You know, it’s always when I think I’ve got a certain situation all figured out that I am thrown into a mental spin and start to doubt every little thing about it. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve misread some really important cues along the way or if I am screwing it all up with my over thinking and over analyzing of every little word and action, or inaction, after the fact.
I find myself in tears of confusion and pure frustration at the futility of it all.
I just can’t or don’t work well with the instability I feel which occurs as a result of mixed messages and uncertainty. And there is the crux of it. I know very well that nothing in this life is certain, nothing is promised, but this knowledge does nothing to stem the feeling of constantly being in limbo for one reason or another.
I just want to smile and feel happy and hopeful again without wondering if I’m just setting myself up for the inevitable fall I am well acquainted with.
I started to withdraw more and more. I didn’t do it on purpose. I want you to know that. The truth is that you withdrew too. We found our way back but you were only there physically, not mentally. I understand that now. It doesn’t make it any easier. I still feel as if I failed. Again.
I want my feelings back now, please. All of them, the good and the bad. At least they were a reminder that it was all real, once.
It was real, wasn’t it?