It needs to be said.

Adam--

Fuck you.

3 years ago you led me on, made me think I was special, made me completely fall for you, only to suddenly realize, DUH, I was just a rebound. I was 2nd choice.

Last winter you led me on, made me think I was special, made me completely fall for you, made me into something I thought I'd NEVER do to another woman, but I was still just 2nd choice.

You treated me horribly, but you know why I never unfriended you?

Adam, before the drama, we'd been friends for five fucking years. I didn't unfriend you because of the dorky Kirksville postcard you sent me in London, because of how you'd always ask my opinion about the latest Harry Potter, because of fucking MSA, Jesus! YOU'RE the one who still brought it up sometimes, who still held it as sacred. (Me, I'd fucking rather see the money go to--I don't know, anything remotely useful in an actual school!!) You were the only MSA person I was even remotely still in contact with, and as much as you hurt me, I didn't want to burn that bridge. I'd think that, even if 5 years of friendship before we pushed it too far doesn't mean anything to you, fucking MSA would.

I guess what I'm saying is, you had no right to unfriend me, since YOU are the one who repeatedly wronged ME. The immaturity of the action honestly bemuses me. What the fuck did I do to you? Not give you the chance to crawl back into our old pattern? Excuuuse me, princess. You've broken my heart countless times, but I say something slightly hurtful, and that's it?? Do you not see how douchey that is??? How much of a double standard? Fuck, makes me almost wanna send an informational facebook message to the girl you dated last winter--except, wait, I don't fucking go out of my way to hurt people.

Fuck you. I never would've chosen to burn the bridge. I respected the friendship we used to have.

I would never wish bad things, but I don't wish you well.

(the next morning: and, see, this is exactly why I refused to restart communication with him. he has WAY too much pull over my emotions.)

tik tok?

I can't stop ticking.

Plus, I've picked up a new one. Hand-wringing.

(Tics are exacerbated by stress, of course. But with the exception of maybe 2 incidents of coprolalia, my tics haven't waxed or waned* since I was a kid. Apparently my current emotional state is hitting me hard.)

You have no idea how distressing it is to not have control over what your hands are doing. To become aware of it, and stop yourself, but then the second you stop paying attention, they go right back to it. Or not stop yourself, because you know it'll just start up again, plus it's so calming to just release and let your body do what it needs to do...

*It's normal for tics to wax and wane, that is, one might disappear for a while and sometime later a new one might crop up. But for me it's been flapping, leg-bouncing, and silent palilalia (?) pretty consistently since, like, middle school.

http://www.tsa-usa.org/aMedical/whatists.html

Blogging in couplets

(muahaha to blogging in couplets. getting old yet? ;) )

Grieving again, except this time it's real.

I really can't figure out what I should feel.

We don't have what it takes to last fifty years--

I need to accept it in spite of my tears.

Rock bottom, I gave him a shot at what-if

he ignored it, 'though I reckon that he got my drift.

The difference between nostalgia and not-letting-go,

I couldn't figure out a year ago.

Accept it and move on...

accept it and move on.

there's no future for me down this road.

there's a greater story to be told.

I'm just so damn stubborn, I'm sure you all know.

once I decide something I can't let it go.

I'd made up my mind, no questions, no fuss.

What do I do when it's all in the dust?

"Just between you and me, getting older and more responsible is kind of horrible sometimes."

healing process

I haven't cried in 6 days.

But, I all but had an anxiety attack this afternoon. That was unusual.

so.

you win some, you lose some. i guess?

Write My Own

(First of all, my apologies to the internet. I have absolutely no creative writing training, and I didn't even begin to revise this. The rhyme and meter are pretty painful. Anyhow, may I present...)

I'll Write My Own Goddamn Poem

by Marie

The loss of the dream leaves nothing the same.

-Langston Hughes

16 months of history, 12 days later.

I'm okay, 'though I've felt better.
I just have the urge to hear your voice,
even if I know we made the right choice.

I broke my own heart, too, you know.

Last year I needed to take it slow.

This time we had no choice - 3 years!

Plenty of time, right, to conquer our fears.

I had you and you were everything;

I'd already plugged you into my dream.

You were nervous but you didn't complain -

I never considered you might not be game.

Kids, piano lessons, soccer practice, picket fence;

I couldn't wait for all that with my prince.

I love you and I know my dream was twofold:

to have kids, and have you, to have and to hold.

You were unsure, but so what, we had time

(not that my "plan" was that you'd change your mind...)

Easily avoided, but then not anymore;

you saw me with kids and you knew I'd want more.

I saw you see me and my hope disappeared.

You just don't want that, it was instantly clear.

Impasse achieved, what choice could we make?

Forsaking a dream would be a mistake.

Such different priorities cannot align,

yet I still want to think that you'll always be mine.

Recap

It's ironic, isn't it, that I spent my summer in love and so happy yet the only record of it here is the angsty buildup and now the tearful conclusion.

Why didn't I write?

(Hell, I barely wrote in my journal. I spent every second of spare-time-to-myself TALKING to him.)

But, let's see.
I didn't want to jinx it.
I never wanted to make a big deal out of it.
I didn't want to sound sappy.

I wish I'd written. Except for the Big Issue That Broke Us Up, which was pretty easily avoided (until it wasn't anymore), we were so happy.

We'd worked out the kinks of long-distance.
We talked soooo much.
He knew everything about my present-day life and was beginning to learn about my past, the things I thought I'd never tell a suitor.
He was starting to pick up on when my attention span was shot and I needed a change of pace. I could tell when he needed to be Aspergery for a while and tell me every detail about something, and even though I'd tease him, I loved it.
He indulged my whims (roller skating! ice cream every day!) and treated me like a princess. I made him breakfast in bed and sent him letters, trying to take care of him, too.
We played board games and he didn't get pissy when I turned into an evil, competitive, trash-talking superbitch.
I squeezed his hand as we confronted one of his biggest fears (an actual place, not anything metaphorical, lol). He'd hold me tight when I was feeling anxious.
I dreamed about spending the holidays with him, spending time with him and my family, spending time with him and my friends. And HIS family, and HIS friends.

I dreamed about spending much more than that with him.

I just never stopped to make sure it was his dream, too.

"Maybe we can be friends someday. It'll just take time."
"'Friends' seems kinda lame after...this."

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I have never felt so empty.