“And throw away my misery, it never meant that much to me. It never sent a get-well card.”
I am one whiny son of a bitch when I am sick, even more so than normal, which would most likely explain the bout of self-pity I was engaged in for the entirety of yesterday. I’m not going to sit here and deny to myself that a lot of what I wrote yesterday isn’t true, as it certainly is. The trouble is the ridiculous amount of effort I put into making myself completely miserable when I think about her. What a completely counterproductive exercise, one that is honestly pretty pathetic.
Oh, and come to think of it I forgot to take my Zoloft yesterday…
It is obviously apparent to me and anyone who would care to take the time to read the previous few years of this nonsense, that feeling sorry for myself is something I seem to take pride in. I’ve been doing this for so goddamn long that I don’t even know why anymore, it doesn’t get me anywhere. All it does is put me in a whole which makes me wholly miserable to be around. What’s worse, I’ve come to realize, is that I’ve been playing this fucking game throughout the duration of every relationship that I’ve ever had. I’ve put the weight of reassuring me on the shoulders of every woman I have ever truly felt for, a completely unfair thing to ask and probably a big part of the reason I’m jerking off alone these days.
You know what; it really isn’t the end of the world once I think about it.
Why in the hell do I feel the need to have a “better” half to pick me up when I beat myself down? The real question is, why in the hell do I beat myself down in the first place? It would be pretty pointless to sit here and speculate as to why I have been doing this for as long as I can remember, so I am not going to. The only thing that is for certain is that I need to get out of this habit. If I don’t I am going to end up in the same exact place I am right now…alone.
I need to get to a point where I can actually be ok with not being in some form or another of romantic relationship. I don’t think I’ll be able to get into something lasting and stable until I first learn to accept that reality. I need to spend this time thinking about me, like I had intended on when I first moved back here. I’ve got to figure out who this person I have been for 27 years really is, something I haven’t known in a while. Thankfully I am in the right place and with the right people to do it.
So here’s to hoping that I can find peace with myself. Here’s to figuring out who I am. Here’s to getting back to doing the things I love with the people I love. Here’s to being ok with going to bed alone at night for now. Here’s to giving up flogging that long dead horse.