11:30 AM
I can't
remember when was the last time I cried before today. Years, probably. I might
have teared up a little back when Jenny rejected me, saying she's not ready for
a boyfriend, but realized she loved me a week later. Well, that turned out
wrong - she was ready. Not for a long-term boyfriend, but a boyfriend
nonetheless.
When Jenny
does leave, I am half-considering striking up conversation with other girls.
Truth be told though, I want to stay single for a few years. Focus on school,
and (later) work. Take a second look at life.
Knowing
myself, I might end up in the gym twice a week and go shopping on the weekends
for some better sets of clothes, just as I did in my first semester of uni when I was single and desperate to meet a
nice girl. I don't think I will end up that way again. At least, I hope I
don't. But loneliness is cold and biting, and it has driven me since my
preteens. I don't know how that will change.
...
I only want her to be happy. And if that means ending it
here and now, then so be it.
10:30 PM
It is
done. I am single.
Honestly,
I feel terrible. I love the girl. But I know it is better for both of us.
I'll probably be fucking miserable for quite a while. Logic and rationale
precedes yesterday and succeeds tomorrow, but all the logos in the world cannot change how I feel.
March 13, 2017
I will be
23 in 3 hours.
This
is my greatest fear right now, except I am hardly the happy guy in the first
picture.
Jenny is
already filling her time with sports and camps. I have no coping mechanism, no
support. I have no time to join any new societies with how ECOS2001 and
ACCT2011 are treating me - I did not get a single question correct in the
tutorial this morning. Henry barely responds with more than a sentence when I
speak to him about it, and I have no other close friends to turn to. And unlike
Jenny, I gain no happiness from doing things like looking at the sunrise or sunset.
I want to
withdraw from the world. And let's not be afraid to make decisions here - I
will do so.
I expect
in the coming weeks to feel anger. To lash out emotionally at a girl who does
not deserve it. To lash out at myself, who maybe does. And I expect to feel the
irrational, to tell myself that I am wholly undeserving of anything in this
world. I can only lock myself up so that no one sees me. And I can only pray
that time heals us both.
Guess I'll
be skipping out on my birthday.
But I need
to look forward. I have not felt a desire to end it all, since I donned the
navy blue that changed my life forever. I will not relapse into a suicidal
mindset, and I cannot. I am much stronger than that.
Some stuff
I probably should not be saying (but will anyway, since I'm being irrational):
When I was
on the plane to Sydney, there was a girl in the next aisle, watching GoT on her
laptop. When the lights came on (it was a night flight) I woke up and we made
eye contact a few times - she was actually really cute. Then she tried to
strike up conversation as everyone exited the plane, but I just smiled and said
nothing. I am no cheater, after all. But in hindsight I wonder if I should have
talked to her, saved her number for future use.
Additionally,
the kiwi girl Julie is in my accounting lecture and I get the feeling she looks
for me at the end of each, trying to find my face. We have made eye contact at least once every lecture. I'm starting to think she is
a little more fond of me than I originally thought. I also have evidence to
believe she is a lot more sensible than I thought...but that's something for
another day.
But I feel
nothing from these little victories. I feel like girls are to come and go, like
flashes of color in those fast-forward city street videos you see as the
background on news channels. Plus I have no time for a girlfriend, between my
studies, Warframe, and day-to-day
errands such as maintaining my physical health. My path is truly one of
loneliness, and I can feel its icy grasp around my chest ever so clearly. It's
not a new feeling.
Now, I will be
23 in 2 hours, and I have nothing to show for it.
No comments:
Post a Comment