He told me he loved me. That's why this is upsetting me so much. He told me he loved me one night when I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up because he was stroking my hair and he whispered it in my ear because he thought I was still asleep. He's the first really good guy who has loved me who I actually had feelings for back (since the high school version of Mr. Man; let's face it, Mr. Man kind of sucks now). He's the first guy that ever shared my political views, that would drop everything and travel if he could, that opened doors for me, that gave me his jacket when I was cold, that wanted to do mundane things with me like go grocery shopping just because he got to be with me, that would rub my back without me asking, and that not only took my dark past in stride but let me hear about his secrets too. He was the Northeastern blonde-haired blue-eyed boy that I've always thought I'd end up marrying (you know, if Rupert Grint was unavailable). He said 'coffee' with that cute Yankee accent and literally gave me goosebumps and made me weak-kneed when he kissed me. Do you know he's actually the first guy that used the word 'beautiful' to describe me? And 'sexy.' No one else has either called me those things -- I get 'pretty,' or 'hot,' but never 'Beautiful.' And yet we could still totally geek out and watch old reruns of Inuyasha together and study together somewhat diligently and fall asleep on the couch cuddling.
I know I said I was going to be careful, that I'd guard myself, that I wouldn't fall for this one. But fuck, by the time I said that I was already way over my head. And I would really desperately like to hate him, but that truth of the matter is that if he knocked on my door rightthissecond and said it was a mistake, that he loves me, that he hates himself, I'd probably take him back. And I really just hate myself for that.
And I totally know this is normal and that every one goes through this and that even though I think right now that he's over me and that I'll never be over him and that my life is over, it's not. So you don't need to remind me. I know I'll be okay. I'm just going to buy some hair dye and some ice cream and I'll be okay soon. But right now, I really need someone else to hate him too, so even though you met him for about five seconds, and know nothing about him, I really need you to tell me that you hate him too.
1. I read all of this.
2. Hate is a strong word and I refuse to apply it to a singular person. Inanimate objects, sure. People by themselves, no.
But I'll say I hate boys like him.
Boys like him, and like Z. Those boys who are so ridiculously good to you, you initially start out scared for how things'll turn out, because it can't be true. So you edge off a bit, then fall in like Alice through the rabbit hole. And things are seemingly perfect because he seems like the closest you'll ever find to a soul mate because you have the same taste in music, have the same weird habits and can have debates about stupid things like typography. Because he said all those things you've been dying to hear and kissed away every insecurity and instance of self doubt.
But the moment it all ends they leave you in this state of self-loathing. Of wondering why you can't hold on to the only thing you thought was worthwhile in your life and the only person you thought would love you that way. And you live with replayed silly memories as well as the instant that you knew things were over. And you know you'd take him back no matter what. Because lets face it, in my case, Z has been beyond douche, and I'd like to think I wouldn't, but if he so much as skyped me right now being like "I miss you, lets give us another chance, etc." I'd be down for it in a heart beat.
And you know what. It's not normal. Everyone goes through it yes, but its not normal. Because no one should have to feel like this. No one deserves it. No one can act like (or should act like and claim) that this is normal or that you'll ever be okay again. Because you won't be. No matter how subtly this'll change you in some way. And how can that be okay? You'll recover. That's a sure thing. But you've also lost something.
Yes. I hate boys like him. That's the aspect that's ok to hate. I hate them with every fiber in my being and every tear that I shed and every breath and beat that courses through me.
You're right. I don't hate him. I never could, even if I wanted to. Even if I was okay with hating another human being. But the fact of the matter is that he is another real life person with a thoughts and feelings and a heart beat, a heart beat that once lulled me to sleep and convinced me that everything would be okay, that it was finally safe to be truly happy. And if nothing else, I'll always care deeply about the idyllic few weeks we had before the real world came in and reminded us that nothing is perfect, that happiness is followed by sorrow, and that love is fleeting.