I haven't written in a while, so I want to share something I wrote awhile back. I've progressed since this point, and feel much less consternation with the male sex, and the hunger and hate that comes along with them. However, I do like the reminder that I need to work more on fulfilling the words and statements that I so easily shout into the abyss. Habits take time, and this is one habit I'm trying to form. Hell, if I can stop biting my nails, I can sure as hell do anything. As is consistent in my life, I refuse to be mediocre. Now, it's time to start accomplishing that.
I guess what really bothers me is I just don’t understand.
I just don’t understand why you stopped talking to me. Why you stopped replying to me. How you just decided one day to cut me out of your life and didn’t even give me a chance. I guess I just don’t understand why you couldn’t just tell me. Why you had to be an ass and stop responding. Why you couldn’t just be upfront and tell me that you didn’t think things were going to work out between us, instead of letting me sit with unanswered questions and mass amounts of hope filtering through the air.
I just hate that I assume it’s because something is wrong with me. And I wonder, what could I have done differently? How could I have changed the course we took by my own words, my own actions, my own being.
I hate that I automatically assume responsibility for a failed relationship. I hate that this embedded idea of being written off as some ‘crazy bitch’ has me accepting responsibility for other people’s actions, and inaction. I’ve worked so hard the past few months to come to terms with myself, and to begin accepting myself for who I am, and who I want to be. I hate that this can so easily be taken away from me by you.
I can sit here and say over and over to myself, that I refuse to feel belittled by men anymore, and that I refuse to let this bother me. But I’m tired of wasting words and my breath on statements that hold no substance. It makes me feel the weight of throwing useless words and proclamations of change into the air, only to have them rest heavily upon my shoulders until I fulfill them. Right now, I have hundreds of statements sitting there. Perched precariously, given life only by my thoughts and my own actions to let them live. And there they sit, waiting for me. Waiting for me, to put substance back into their glassy shells; their silken carcass holding no matter but still weighing more than a hippopotamus.
So I accept, that my heart feels torn. That my demeanor is sulky at the thought of not being good enough. I accept that sometimes, these feelings are inescapable, as I have sadly been brought up in a world where woman are deemed as crazy, and men are seen as the be all, end all. I accept that I feel bad for myself, because I have so much love and not enough outlets.
I however, do not accept letting you off of the hook.
So this is it. I will have another day long pity party, where I wallow for the fact that I have not yet found someone. The thing is though, I’m open to whomever comes my way. At least I have the chance to find something real, while you cower behind your schedules and responsibility.
So in the end, I feel bad. But I won’t feel bad forever. However, you will.
