Sometimes
someone comes into our lives and they become our drug. This poison that
only makes us feel good when things are good, but when things are bad it
is so bad your entire world feels like it is falling apart. They are
this kind of person who you can't tell if you are in love with,
infatuated with, or addicted to. You can't live without them because
they feel like your everything...the only thing that will ever make you
happy. But they are also the only person who can make you feel so
absolutely devastated you can barely function. Like a drug...with wicked
withdrawals.
You can try and kick this habit all you want...tell it no, refuse to
use it, try and walk away, but somehow it always comes back. You beg
and plea for mercy because you know you just aren't strong enough to say
no. So you beg them to say no for you, but when they don't, it's like
sticking the needle right back in your track-scarred arm.
Fuck.
I have been trying to kick a habit for 3 years now.
And it's not just me, there is an addiction on their side too. It's
fucked up. They love the power they have over me and how I turn to jelly
when they walk into the same room. They love knowing that despite
everything, they can coo me and bring me back to their side...and I love
even the slightest bit of attention from them. It's gotten my heart
racing and my knees shaking so much that I almost crave the high...even
if the crash after is fucking disastrous. And after the crash, when I
have told myself I have cried myself to sleep for the last time, I
finally get the balls to say "leave me alone"...but I know I will always
get a "but why" in return...and the cycle continues.
We both know we are bad for each other, but we can't quit. We
literally can't be in the same room because of the sexual tension. His
socially inept ways make it impossible to actually enjoy his
conversations or his presence, unless we are naked together or texting.
It's fucked up. And neither of us knows how to quit. Or maybe we just
don't want to.
I told him I would love him until the day he told me to stop. I
begged him time and time again to just tell me to stop so I can move on,
but his response was always the same, "I can't tell you how to
feel"...and that gave me hope. Like Lloyd Christmas from Dumb and
Dumber, "So you're saying there's a chance...!"
But in the end, there has never been a chance. Just a boy who loves
the way a girl loves him, and to fill his narcissistic ego, he keeps
coming back, because he can't quit her either, even if he doesn't love
her.
Finally, after years of begging to be let go, I asked him to just
tell me to stop loving him so I could move on. "Just tell me to stop
loving you and I'll go away"
His words were like they always
were, "I can't tell you how to feel" but with a new twist,"Stop loving
me, it's best for both of us"
All of a sudden, everything went numb. The words I never thought
he'd say. "Stop loving me". Just like that. "Stop loving me". It rang in
my mind. Did he mean it? Would he finally set me free and let me go?
Just let me be and move on? Was I hurting, was I shocked? I don't know. I
was relived because I thought, "If he leaves me alone, I won't have to
be strong enough to ignore him". It seemed so simple.
But I know us. And I know him.
That night he came into the
yoga room as I stretched. My heart burst in my chest and my entire body
was shaking, almost violently. I had to breathe. I had to keep going and
not look back at him. Just stretch. Just breathe.
And my eyes watered.
I turned my music up higher and tried
to push his presence out of my head even though I was relieved to see he
didn't turn around and walk out when he saw me. I wanted him to stay
all night, even if I couldn't talk to him. I wanted my fix of him...just
a little. Just enough to get me through the night. Just enough to know
he's still there.
When he had finished his workout, he lingered at the door as if to
say goodbye. I wanted him to stay there and wait for me forever. I
wanted him to want me again. But I knew he'd be over it soon, like he
always seems to be. He lingered a little longer, trying to grab my
attention and then he walked out. I bowed my head down on the mat until my body
stopped shaking and my eyes stopped watering. I had to do this for me.
I did my meditation and thought of how life could be without him.
What a beautiful, colorful life I could have again if I could just let
him go.
"Stop loving me"
I'm fucking trying, but you're not making this easy, dillhole.
Later, after I felt I had freed myself from my addiction, even if for one night, he texted me.
He fucking texted me.
And while I loved it, I hated it. "I was trying to say goodbye, but obviously you didn't want to see me" he wrote.
Of course I wanted to see you. I always want to see you. I want
everything to do with you, but you told me to stop loving you, which in
my mind meant "leave me alone" and here you are, putting the needle to
my vein.
AH!
AAAHHHHH!
I don't know how to live without him.
Like an appendage. I don't know how to function without having him in my
life, even if all we ever do is text and never see each other. Anything
to be a part of his life. It's fucking sickening. And pathetic. But to
cut him out is so fucking painful, I don't know how to cut the actual
tie.
I feel like he is that arm that is crushed between two rocks and in
the end will be the death of me if I don't let him go. I'll stay in this
predicament because I am too afraid of how much it will hurt. I've
almost given up my survival instincts just to keep him. And here I am
now, trying to cut him out of my life and I have hit the tendons...the
connection we have...this inexplicable thing that holds us together. I
don't even care right now that I am only halfway through and it's just
danging there, a bloody mess, I just don't know if I can go through with
it...cutting it off completely. Sure, there is potential for a bionic
arm which would be way more awesome and cool and stronger and might even
have a laser, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be him.
damnit.
He's my comfort; my security blanket.
Like a
security blanket, what he is serves no purpose. The security blanket
will never pick me up from the airport, it will never call me, it will
never hug me back and doesn't have feelings for me. But I hold what he
is to me so close because I don't know how to feel without it and the
fear of feeling empty and scared inside is almost unbearable. And as
painful as it is, that pain has almost even become a comfort in itself.
Something inevitable, reliable but can be healed with one little text,
or a chance meeting at the gym.
So I am at that point where I have to believe that cutting off this
arm, getting rid of that blanket, or cutting off my supply will save me.
That the anchor of this person, who I don't know how to live without,
will finally be cut and I can be free.
I'm scared. It's only been a day and though I swear I have tried to quit
so many times before, I have to make this it. I have to believe him
when he tells me to stop loving him. I have to know that I will be
better off. I have to cut through these tendons and bear this horrific
pain so that I can go on to better things.
Because, after all, if you don't cut it off, you will never win the Oscar...
