I remembered to be forgiving. And kind. And I remembered feeling a kick in the gut from not being wanted. And I remembered being stumped not knowing what to do and being in denial. Taking that rejection as being reflective of who I am as a person.
And I forgot about being happy.
I thought being happy meant being accepted. It means fighting and being unselfish.
But I am a good person. And I know I don't deserve this. And I want someone or something to blame but all I can blame is myself. For being weak and disgusting.
I know I have to be strong and it pains me that I have no capacity for that. That I am a pushover and despite talking big, I'm actually very small.
I don't need anyone but I have summed myself up into being contingent on one person. One person who just doesn't care about me beyond what he would think is socially acceptable. And I, despite myself have built him up in my head, put him on a pedestal and continuously punish myself for... losing him.
And I want to desperately ask "what about me?". I would shout it out into the world but I live in a cave and the only voice who will answer back is my pathetic echo.
And despite myself and everyone else, I know I will internalize this self hate and I will be laying awake all night.
Because while he's out there, I'm in here. Clutching my heart because I thought it's literally going to break. I want to believe that I'm stronger than this.
But I'm not.