What makes me not love him anymore, (a long vent, to warn those who are uninterested in those)
is knowing I was never really part of his world. It was easy to blame me for many things but the truth is he never really let me in.
By blaming me he was eternally able to get off the hook for being a selfish prick. I could hang out with one of his friends a dozen times and he'd still talk to me about them like I never met them. He'd tell me the same things over and over, and never remembered anything I told him. He'd flirt with other women in front of me. He'd exclude me from things with his cool friends and tell me it was my fault for not being there. Like I could go to things I wasn't invited to and didn't even know were happening. He'd never invite me to anything except last minute. When he did make plans he'd forget and often I'd be ghosted wondering what happened to him. It hurt my feelings and instead of being sorry he'd get angry at me because I was hurt he forgot about me...
How many times did I tell him I like quiet nature walks, going out dancing, a picnic in the cemetery and how many times did we do anything I liked doing? Never. Even when he said we would.
He did the bare minimum in every thing and even that was heavy with selfishness.
I realize our sex was so passionate and beautiful because of my efforts and spoiling. He took a lot. And many times just wouldn't touch me. I told him over and over until it lost it's meaning. It didn't matter until I started touching him less.
He really put more effort into dodging accountability than he did into making the relationship safe and I understand why...
He is all about himself. I remember listening to him complain about his brother calling him a narcissist when he was absolutely no different. He did the same things.
I'm reflecting because I'm tired of my own sadness. Tired of grieving something that made me feel ugly, stupid and insane. Whether he was aware of himself or not has become entirely irrelevant. Because truth is, he didn't care if he hurt me. He didn't care if he took too much. He didn't care about me in any way resembling what I would consider a real relationship.
Also, he was a dude bro, a gym guy who was obsessed with the superficial arbitrary. I am a deep, dark, nature loving witch obsessed with learning and experiencing.
I believe it was a selfish part of him that believed he loved me, not his heart. I think he didn't want to be alone but he doesn't know how to love.
I've gone through an array of feelings over the last few weeks. Grief has me emotionally going up and down. He even got someone to message me and asked to meet and talk, but I don't need to feel two inches tall anymore. My hair finally stopped falling out. My nervous system is feeling calmer. I am doing better overall even though I still have a bad day here and there.
Who knows, maybe he did love me. I don't think I want that kind of love though. I don't think it's supposed to hurt that much.
Wouldn't you want to touch your lover?
Wouldn't you want to do things they liked to do instead of planning everything around yourself?
I don't doubt I had my contributions to the unease, but I never felt safe with him. Even in the beginning. I remember we took an acid trip together and did some art. His portion looked like he was gonna clobber me to death and splatters. I don't think that dynamic changed much in seven years. His bludgeoning conceited attitude towards my softness and sensitivity became a way to manipulate me. He admitted to that a dozen times, swore he'd change, then came at me again.
Sorry to dump this. I'm not sorry for my feelings or for using this space as it's intended. I'm sorry I haven't let it go. Sorry to myself moreso for still thinking about a man I should erase from my memory. I simply can't. I can only process and eventually move on.
I exist.
By blaming me he was eternally able to get off the hook for being a selfish prick. I could hang out with one of his friends a dozen times and he'd still talk to me about them like I never met them. He'd tell me the same things over and over, and never remembered anything I told him. He'd flirt with other women in front of me. He'd exclude me from things with his cool friends and tell me it was my fault for not being there. Like I could go to things I wasn't invited to and didn't even know were happening. He'd never invite me to anything except last minute. When he did make plans he'd forget and often I'd be ghosted wondering what happened to him. It hurt my feelings and instead of being sorry he'd get angry at me because I was hurt he forgot about me...
How many times did I tell him I like quiet nature walks, going out dancing, a picnic in the cemetery and how many times did we do anything I liked doing? Never. Even when he said we would.
He did the bare minimum in every thing and even that was heavy with selfishness.
I realize our sex was so passionate and beautiful because of my efforts and spoiling. He took a lot. And many times just wouldn't touch me. I told him over and over until it lost it's meaning. It didn't matter until I started touching him less.
He really put more effort into dodging accountability than he did into making the relationship safe and I understand why...
He is all about himself. I remember listening to him complain about his brother calling him a narcissist when he was absolutely no different. He did the same things.
I'm reflecting because I'm tired of my own sadness. Tired of grieving something that made me feel ugly, stupid and insane. Whether he was aware of himself or not has become entirely irrelevant. Because truth is, he didn't care if he hurt me. He didn't care if he took too much. He didn't care about me in any way resembling what I would consider a real relationship.
Also, he was a dude bro, a gym guy who was obsessed with the superficial arbitrary. I am a deep, dark, nature loving witch obsessed with learning and experiencing.
I believe it was a selfish part of him that believed he loved me, not his heart. I think he didn't want to be alone but he doesn't know how to love.
I've gone through an array of feelings over the last few weeks. Grief has me emotionally going up and down. He even got someone to message me and asked to meet and talk, but I don't need to feel two inches tall anymore. My hair finally stopped falling out. My nervous system is feeling calmer. I am doing better overall even though I still have a bad day here and there.
Who knows, maybe he did love me. I don't think I want that kind of love though. I don't think it's supposed to hurt that much.
Wouldn't you want to touch your lover?
Wouldn't you want to do things they liked to do instead of planning everything around yourself?
I don't doubt I had my contributions to the unease, but I never felt safe with him. Even in the beginning. I remember we took an acid trip together and did some art. His portion looked like he was gonna clobber me to death and splatters. I don't think that dynamic changed much in seven years. His bludgeoning conceited attitude towards my softness and sensitivity became a way to manipulate me. He admitted to that a dozen times, swore he'd change, then came at me again.
Sorry to dump this. I'm not sorry for my feelings or for using this space as it's intended. I'm sorry I haven't let it go. Sorry to myself moreso for still thinking about a man I should erase from my memory. I simply can't. I can only process and eventually move on.
I exist.
