Innerworkings of a Struggling Mind

A Rant (El)

I just... I don't understand. You left me without any rules or parameters, you left me with no explanation, and you don't want me to talk about it. You don't want me to talk about what has been probably the worst night of my life so far. I don't care if you don't want to talk about it. But that makes me feel like I can't ask questions. Like I can't know anything. And now I don't know what else there is to talk about. How am I supposed to do that???? How am I supposed to have a conversation with you, acting like everything's normal when nothing is? In the middle of a school week when I'm in the middle of a play, and it's Halloween night and I'll have a class, and I could be doing things with my friends, but instead, we have a wedding that we've been planning for months. I don't want to push it back, but I don't want to have it. But I don't want to cancel it. I just want to talk to you. And it's not real. Like you said, it's just on the internet, and God, who cares about that, right? Guess what? I do. I care about that. I care about people on the internet so so much. And that means you. And that means Ad, and that means Sa, as much as she fucking terrifies me sometimes. It means, Em even though I don't think about her as much as I used to, and I feel terrible about that. It means Ab, and An even though I haven't talked to either of them in about a million years, and I got them mixed up once or twice because both of their names started with an A and their favourite colour was yellow. That means Te, who was my best friend for years and years despite the fact that we never talked, and we never once met in real life. I care about every single one of them, and I remember all of their names. And.... God, I care about you so fucking much. Do you know how much this is killing me? I would never say it to you directly, because I respect this decision too fucking much to try and ruin it, and I'm not blaming you for needing time away. But I'm dying over here, okay? I mentioned taking time away for what, one, maybe two weeks? And you got upset. Because it was a long time, and you were right! And I rethought things. And I stayed, because I realised that I could afford to. And I'm just supposed to... Accept this without question? After everything? After.... what you sent me? That's not fair. It's not fair at all. It's playing dirty. It's making this hurt more than it needs to. And you couldn't even sent it to me directly. You posted it on a side blog and tagged me in it, taking the chance that I wouldn't even see it. Or that other people would, and be able to read most of the first page. What's the point of it then? Truthfully, I didn't finish reading it. I couldn't. I got to page two. I couldn't read more than that right now. Not if I want to be able to function in any capacity this week. I blocked you on this blog, you know. I didn't want to hurt you. I still don't. But I don't care if you see the stuff I'm posting anymore. I'm not having a good time. I'm having an especially bad time. I've never really, truly gone through a breakup before. You know that. I told you about it. I didn't feel a thing, and for a long time I wondered if I was on the aro spectrum, because I felt like I did it very heartlessly. But I'm not. I know that now. I know because of tonight. God, I want to say three words to you so very badly, but I don't know if I can. The idea makes my chest hurt so badly. Please don't say them to me when you're back. I can't handle it. Not after this. It's not fair. To be honest, I hope you read this. I hope you understand. You don't have to come back. I don't care. Do what you will. I just need you to understand how I'm doing: badly. Very, very badly. And quite frankly, that's not fair to you, either. I know it's not, and that's part of why I feel so poorly. Because I made The Mistake again. I put too much pressure on one person. I gave them too much of my attention. I smothered you, didn't I? I put too much faith in you. Relied on you too heavily. Got too clingy. You told me you hated that, once. That it could be a deal breaker for you. I guess it was, wasn't it?