ihavebeenfloated

This is where those emo posts that made an appearance during the whole Tiffany situation make a reappearance. You can safely ignore this if you want, I just need to get some shit out.

So, I’m still thinking about you. I can’t help it. This room reminds me of you. Every inch of it. The layout of it was built around you. I got this bigger bed mainly to make it more comfortable for us to sleep next to each other. I rearranged everything with you in mind.

I feel sick now. The house is dark. The fan is humming. What am I supposed to do without the looking forward to seeing you again feelings?

It’s silly. I know I’ll get over it. Maybe it’ll only take me a few days to start feeling OK with being alone. It’ll take me longer to stop wanting to check up on your livejournal, or see how many friends you have on your myspace. These are habits I have and those are hard to break. Same with the spontaneously messaging you at random hours. Same with the feeling abandoned and scared when you don’t reply to them. Same with the constantly wondering where you are and what you’re doing, but the fear that you’re having a better time with someone who isn’t me is now replaced with a knowledge of the fact that you’re having a better time without me around.

That hurts. But I did this. And no matter how bad I want to fool myself into believing that I can undo it, I know I can’t.

That is comforting.

Knowing that you are gone is both terrifying and comforting.

Almost every coherent thought attached to a feeling of you is against you, reminding me of why I left you and why you deserved it.

Almost every feeling with no coherent thought is a feeling of regret, missing you. But these are just strange habitual feelings, there really are no reason behind them. We shared a few great kisses, a few great moments of startling beauty, but they were few and far between and I have to stop trying to hold on to them.

But it is so hard not to.

It’s really troubling, and it really sucks, to think that you’re probably fucking some random guy right now. Some random guy who will never care about you the way I did, who will never love you the way I did, who you’ll never love the way that you loved me, and that makes me sad. It makes me sad to think that I couldn’t save you from the fleet of men out there who just want to penetrate you, to make a trophy lay out of you, you unique looking spooky girl with the funny style who just happens to not be fat and ugly. You will probably, from now on, only encounter the type of men that want to use you. That makes me sad.

What makes it even worse is the fact that… that is what you want. You just want to be used. You don’t want to be loved, you don’t want someone to want to keep you. You just want to run free and wild and get fucked by as many guys as possible, because that is all you know. That is what your mother taught you.

I hope that some day you might grow out of it and realize how good I was, and maybe come back to me. But, I have to realize that this is who you are and who you will always be. You’ll never understand why someone would want to marry you, keep you around a long time, and you’ll never allow yourself to be cared for in that way. You just don’t know what to do without the affections of many different men all at once. All you are is the people who want you. That explains why you were crying at the prospect of all your 100s of anonymous MySpace friends being gone, all your admirers on OKCupid. All you are to yourself is what you are to other people.

It’s a pity that what you were to me, the most valuable thing in my life, wasn’t enough for you to be happy.

I feel kind of sick now. I’m tired. I need to give up on this attempt to stay awake in the advent that something miraculous happens. I don’t know what it could be, but I know it isn’t coming.

The life that I knew is over now. I need to start something new.