Pick up My Pieces

So, I was minding my own business, just going to work and out with my best friends on occasion. Then he came along and fucked all these up. At first it was heavenly. It was like I always dreamed it would be. We clicked at the very beginning. I actually spent eight hours with the man, on our first date. And we were just talking. He was very into me and not ashamed to show it. He made me feel so special I was flying to the moon. Of course I was scared. But then I had the bright idea of letting go and enjoy it.

Nope. Turns out I'm not a masochist.

So why the fuck did I stay after break up number one, to see break up number I-have-lost-count? If you do, please enlighten me. According to my friends, it was because if I left, I would always ask myself “what if”?

Well, I'm asking myself now. What if I walked out on break up number one? I would have had a short but happy relationship filled with mind blowing sex and cuddling. And moved on to the next one, not wondering if he has managed to get himself together.

Now? I feel like I've lost a year of my life. Yes, it's all lessons and experience. But let's be honest here. This isn't some PlayStation game that you can level up. Although, I did gain some weight; just like Super Mario when he levels up. Hm…

I even feel bad for thinking that I've lost a year of my life. I feel bad because he was the guy that at some point I wanted to spend my life with. I was extremely happy; most of the time. We dreamed of having our everyday jobs, then return home to our little farm outside the city where our pretty dogs would happily greet us. Escape on the weekends for road trips and visits to our parents. Laugh, make love and even fight. I imagined the day that all the darkness would stay behind and we would look back and see how much we accomplished together.

And then I woke up.

There was a point where I had everyday panic attacks. He would disappear for long hours, then message me a short novel of a text explaining how bad I was for him and why I should stay away from him. And I would just sit there, at work, surrounded by people, trying to conceal the cold sweat, the hand shaking and the shortness of breath; trying to focus on work and think of a reply.
A reply that would explain why I was not such a bad influence and I would try my best to justify every single thing I have said two or three days ago, that he has just now processed and did not like.

It was a no win situation. But, like the perfectionist freak that I am, I did not give up. I did not walk away on the first break up or the twentieth. Because I wanted to see the end. And if it wasn't good; it wasn't the end.

Maybe I am a little masochist after all. I did not enjoy crying my eyes out for this man for a year. But I did stay with him. Because I loved him. Of course I did, why else would I want that farm and have that dream?

At some point however, the dream fainted until the point that I totally forgot it ever existed.

Maybe the reason that my path crossed his (other than he actually made a real effort into getting my attention) is to help him get through a part of his darkness; the part that almost got him to suicide last year.

Whatever makes me sleep at night; yeah, that's something he would have said to me.

Despite everything, I stayed because I truly loved him. I felt it in my core the very moment I walked through his front gate. No, it wasn't love at first sight, but I felt so calm around him, like I didn't have to try and impress him. I could be myself. And then he accused me of being a fake; I couldn't be that nice; I couldn't be so caring. There were so many times I was questioned about my motives. I should be questioning his motives actually; especially when after he spent all his savings, I was the one buying him found and giving him transport money. I was just offering something to someone I loved; no strings attached. He was a human being in need. And I could help; so I did.

There were so many times that instead of taking a small step forward and maybe feel a little uncomfortable, he took four steps backwards and then just to feel better about himself, he would accuse me of stuff. I'm talking about the little things; like being there on my birthday. Oh sorry, that was in the middle of another break up! He couldn’t make the effort to be around people, so in the middle of his self-pity, he orchestrated a fight and pushed me away.

Maybe the time when I went overboard and begged for a job on his account because he had sold everything he owned and still did not have a way to live. When he quit that job, he actually had the balls to tell me that it was my fault because he felt pressured.

Bottom line is, I begun feeling bad about myself, like I wasn't good enough, like everything I did or said was wrong. Yet, I still stuck around. And I wasn’t good enough. He wanted more and more. More than any person would be able to give to another.

And then on New Year's, I was crying my eyes out. Again.

That was my turning point. And I did put my warning out. He should have taken a hint when I told him right in his face that I did not deserve to cry for anyone on New Year's. I mean come on! You make your girl cry on New Year’s, what did you expect? To just forget it and keep going like nothing happened?

Almost done it, like the masochist that I am.

Now that I think of it, I should have grabbed my stuff right there and then and walk out. But I didn't. I should have. I always have a thing with New Years. I cut ties with my ex also on New Year’s; because I’ve had enough of eighteen months of just sex and nothing else.

Not like the end of our relationship was not dramatic. It was so dramatic that Shonda Rhimes would make a script out of it; tires spinning on the street, stuff in garbage bags, yelling. And all that, twice.

Then it ended like it started. With a four hour talk.

A year and half later, I feel free. I do think about him every now and then but that’s it. I never want to see him or talk to him ever again. I loved him deeply and he hurt me like no one ever did. He did love me but did not appreciate anything I did for him. I tore myself into pieces for a person that was so selfish that the one time that I actually needed him and all I asked, was to “just be there” for me, he responded with a marvelous reply; “I need to take care of myself now.”

And then, hell broke loose. The hell that I kept inside for so long and became the bitch that he feared to faced. I stood my ground and packed my things and never looked back.

I suppose it’s true what they say; passionate love stories can never last.