Seems I picked the right time to start with Xanax yesterday.
Well, not entirely, but the physical part is. And most definitely what I once mistakingly called a “relationship”.
I’m so torn between knowing that I’m going to get hurt so much in the future every time you’ll meet women, and still being mentally close to you. But right now I cannot give up, I care for you too much. So we agreed to just continue like we were, before all the drama started to happen.
I’m so saddened by the fact that you didn’t feel 100% comfortable around me. In retrospect I should have done so many things differently. But that’s still not a guarantee that everything would have worked out better. I keep thinking what it could have been that made you refrain.
Was it that I didn’t smoke and wasn’t too keen on the whole drugs environment? At New Year’s Eve, I got a small panic attack at the dinner table when the realization hit me that I’d never fit in; our worlds are so different. And yet we’re so similar on so many levels, so it just fucked up my head completely.
Was it that I was too physically shy and reserved? I keep on thinking this was a major issue for you. And I resent myself now for being that way. I wish I would have been more direct, dominant, “throw caution to the wind”. I didn’t know what you liked, what you didn’t. You never really gave much clues about it. And I tried experimenting, but sometimes, when things get physical, I just.. block. It has to do with stuff in the past. I thought you’d understand. But I also understand why it could have been a major issue for you.
Was it that I was too quiet sometimes? I’m sorry, but that’s just who I am. Maybe I should have been more outgoing.
Was it because you thought you’d have to be physical with me? Because you didn’t have to. I’m serious. I’m not gonna lie and say I didn’t like it, but on occasions you did exaggerate. And maybe I should have pushed you away from time to time, to let you know that this wasn’t necessary. But I was afraid it would have given the wrong signal.
My mind keeps on racing, keeps getting stuck on how I was too much to handle. I already took some pills again, and still it just won’t shut up.
Part of me is still hoping that, now that we started again with a cleanish slate, I might get a second chance. My rational side is trying to push those thoughts and hopes away, but I still can’t help having them.
Maybe in time I can convince myself that these feelings are just me caring for you as a friend.
But I’m already missing your touch, your smile, your kisses, your hugs.
I asked you yesterday if everything had been just an act. And you replied that everything you had said in those moments was real, and that you do care for me, and you did like hugging me.
But that you couldn’t say “I love you” in the way I would have liked.
You said you were good at running away.
Well, guess what, I’m not letting you yet. I don’t have any expectations, and I realize I’ll still get hurt in the process, but I’m not letting you yet.
So please don’t give up on me yet, either. No labels, no.. anything. Just, me as a person.