oh when will it end...

this torrent of tedious blog posts...

generations to come will be utterly astounded by my emotionally verbal shits that i share with the world.

i grew up blogging. been doing it since i was 15 or so. it's how i rationalise things. it's how i think of diary keeping, the idea of the lock and key and secrets has never appealed to me. i am an open book, and i like being able to communicate well. it's something i view as a good thing, and blogging helps me know where i stand. turning off comments is good too, it means i can't whore it out to getting comments, and the only readers really are ones who are interested in voyeurism, which is something i wholeheartedly support, as a voyeur myself.

today i cut him out.
i need to, because he seems bored by my every word, or at least, unwilling to bother seeing me. when i do, he seems ok with seeing me, a little indifferent, but also kinda scared, slightly wary. why? because i have a capacity to hurt him maybe? i don't know why, but that is what loving someone is about - the fact that they can hurt you.

i read back to the last patch of misery, and i already see how far i come. it would have been basic for me to act like this again, and push it back. if, back then, i'd really expressed how angry and hurt i was at how he belittled me for thinking my face is ugly, and calling me selfish and being snide, or whatever, rather than just tip-toing, maybe i would have saved myself THIS, and he and M could have had their sunset then. or maybe that never would have happened, as well, ... actually, i Don't want to go into the delicacies of his relationship with her, as he retold it to me over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again... because if she comes across it, it's not fair on her. it's not fair for her to get trails of whatever he told me, because a lot of it was stuff that, if i knew my lover said behind my back, i would be utterly guttered.

this is another reason of anger. intense anger. and it is easy for me to blame her when she is not at blame. the one at blame is him. squarely. talking to him makes me want to wound him, using her.

ha. i realised that he once said that the only thing she could say that would hurt him was insulting me, and that is why she did it. he didn't seem wounded with me snarking her. mainly because i would halfway through often apologize rather than continuing? fuck only knows. if it continues to prove the theory that he ended it with me because he was too scared of how he felt, as well as the myriad of other things, well... it makes me angrier. if his love for me was so sacred, so amazing, so special, why not fight a little more? because he's scared of being old, scared of me hurting him, scared of hurting me, scared he cannot communicate, taking the easy option, the easy lover, the one that doesn't make him tired? maybe fear is behind it. indifference often is veiled fear, and his indifference tends to veil something else. and his indifference is one of the things that hurt me the most. not caring about me, not caring how i felt, what i did. 'i don't care if you leave me.' he told me that over and over again. how can anyone feel loved when the action of telling me that i could leave and he wouldn't care is there? it made me think he never cared. i know that is not true.

i deserve better in a partner, in a lover, in a friend. i deserve honesty, i deserve bravery, i deserve someone who will risk their heart. he risked and gave away so much for me, i know, i know. he felt a lot, i know, i know. but i need someone who will say 'if you leave me, my heart will break' if that is how they feel. not tell me they won't care. that hurt so much.

i want a friend who'll bother to call when i go two states away with a broken heart.
i want a friend who'll try and make time to see me.
i want a friend who can talk to me about something other than work.
i want friends whose lives i can engage with. until i am comfortable with the fact he is with m, i do not want to hear about it. i don't want nice stories of how they made love all night, or pie all night, or kissed in the moonlight, or went drain exploring. i don't want to know because He Gave Something He Promised To ME to someone else. he took it back and gave it to her, and i don't fucking want to know.

i'm going to do some exercise. either get a personal trainer, or go to yoga, or something. as my therapist said, there are four rules to ANGER.
1. be angry
2. be angry (the first rule is VERY important)
3. do not hurt yourself
4. do not hurt others.

so, i am thinking of ways of BEING ANGRY without hurting others. now, i have nothing new left to say to e. nothing else other than this earworm. so now, blog, you get the anger. i am feeding it into here. if i give it to him, it goes wrong, and turns into anger at things i am not angry at. i just lash out because i want to hurt him, so so badly. and the only way for me not to do that, is to not speak to him until i can not lash out. so he is blocked on work messenger. he name has 'DO NOT MESSAGE' next to it in my phone. any messages i leave in public are not openly aggressive. if i need to be angry, i will articulate it here. if i need to write down why i am angry about what he did with m, i will do it in my locked, lame LJ.

better.

exercise. dance. yoga. etal.

next steps

with sanity, comes sexdrive
comes thus, frustration.

oh well.

i ate pie today, and read more of 'middlesex'. lay in bed. napped. thought about things. realised that i need not like anyone by proxy, and can feel however i want to. one step further from the mania. one step at a time.

a part of me is filled with the desire to shove something in the gap as fast as possible. both physically, and emotionally. there is a space there. i feel unloved. there is a space there. i am not sure what happens next. there is a space there. i need to find Another, Another, Another to feel whole again. when i can see this is what i want to do, i can then consciously not do it because this is not the solution to a gap in my heart. i've got a space there, and my first desire was to place edgar back in there. love me again. be with me again. try to forget what fucked this up, try to pretend that this is what i wanted.

rather than realise i hurt because i feel alone, which has nothing to do with someone else, i felt inferior. i have nothing to prove because a man old enough to be my dad chooses to love someone closer to his age because it's a far more sensible option. of course i will be happier long term. of course i was being stupid. i mean, he lied to me, unintentionally. he promised he would always love me more than her, and would never leave me for her. he did this time and time again. and time and time again, i told him that he would leave me, and break my heart. i eventually believed him, after breaking up with him, because i felt so vulnerable that i was left relying on the old comfort of the stimulants that sex and love provide, rather than the calm logic that governed me, knowing her brand of madness was his type far more than my slow, stoic sensibility. he'd told me enough of his past for me to know that he would want to be with her, and that i almost can know that it will end as miserably as almost all of his other relationships have, with his interest slowly, than rapidly fading, and hers not.

he once told me 'i love you more than life itself, well, at least until you say something stupid, or you bore me. then, i'll never want to see you again.' he claims he was joking, and i actually do believe, weirdly enough, that his love for me IS the sort of love that won't be ended with a sly comment. but, by the same token, he wants a lover that will have a relationship end like that, when he gets bored, when she cannot wound him as i can, and cannot break his heart.

i look forward to getting bored of thinking about this, almost as much as i look forward to not being in love with him. it's boring me, the fact that my mind is in this dull little loop of self justification. but if i try and force sociability, it'll just hurt.

so i compromise, with movies and not bands. i don't beg for sex, i just ask, and am relatively indifferent if he won't give in (i mean, really, i can take care of myself.. .it's just the sex was incredible...). company that's non-threatening. i can deal with alone time now. i can deal with myself. i like myself. i don't want to be his girlfriend. at all. ever again, even slightly. but i still am in love with him.

an interesting mental position.

i imagine that if our ages had us closer things would be different. but, his age isn't my problem, it's his retarded inability to know not to make OVERARCHING promises about things he cannot keep, or the lies he tells himself. he may be old enough to be my father, but a lot of the time, i felt like he was the spoiled child, and i, the longsuffering, frustrated parent, annoyed that he could not even say how he felt. i think it is a generational thing, and honestly, i prefer men who can be MEN about their emotions, and not little boys.

not that i don't love him, all the same. just feel ruefully frustrated at him, fondly, hair ruffle, roll eyes, silly thing...

blogs are good. i scream at the sky and no one is listening. or maybe they are, but i keep the comments off in case of abuse from e's kids. though, kids, you got yourself a NEW lady to do that to, one who i hope has been forewarned of the angry teens wanting to rip out your eyes due to the fact you are fucking their dad. *sad smile* hope you deal with that ok, or that at least neither of them get your number, or level abuse at you. it kinda sucks.