A Deafening Quiet

It’s nearly Christmas and I don’t feel Christmassy at all. Maybe that’s partly the bleak outlook everyone has right now or maybe it’s the fact that I still can’t have a night out that doesn’t involve breaking down and crying on somebody at some point.

There’s also the other thing that I’m getting quite sick of. Maybe most girls would enjoy it, but I don’t. I never have and round about now it’s just making the things going around my head worse.

Maybe you even already guessed that with my lack of being able to deal with something as innocent as a kiss. I don’t know.

But I don’t like being hit on. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable. It always has.

And even though I had a good time the other night, being hit on by a guy took the edge off. I know he means no harm, but… Well, he’s my ex’s now girlfriend’s ex and the father to her kid. So you can imagine how that makes things even more incredibly messed up with me than it would otherwise be.

These things seem to keep happening to me. Things kick off and I can’t do anything about it because ultimately, they don’t derive from my intentions. I wish they did because then, at least, I could do something about them instead of being left only with the option of reacting to them.

And even when I react to get rid of them I don’t always get what I want out of the situation.

Guys don’t seem to get, either, that right now I don’t want to be with anyone. I want to be perfectly alone. This is hard enough without thinly veiled intentions from guys who only want a quick lay. And well, I’m sorry, but I’m not that girl and I never will be. I’m pretty sure I make that incredibly obvious too.

Maybe the fact that I’m so vulnerable right now shows me off as an easy target or something, though. But I’m not. I won’t betray myself. I won’t betray who I am inside to feel momentary better and then permanently worse.

I just need to stop blaming myself for this mess. Because I am. Blaming and hating.

And the last thing I ought to do is hate myself for a guy who lied and told me he loved me. For a guy who made me believe and trust him so implicitly because he’d waited so long and tried so hard and seemed so genuinely happy like I’d never seen him before… Like no one had seen him before.

But I guess that if he’d ever cared like that at all he wouldn’t have broken my heart and he wouldn’t be sticking with that decision and ruining all our lives in the process. Because if he doesn’t love her, everything will break up.

And he’ll hurt her. And the little lad. And me for knowing that he hadn’t done it because he cared for her. And himself for putting himself through that. Not to mention his ridiculous family who value him so much less than he deserves.

By nature, I’m a fixer. I try to fix things and piece them together. I try to help people and listen to them. When I can see a huge mess but I can’t do anything to clean it up or prevent it from exploding, I hate it. And I hate seeing people hurt.

My heart wishes for a When Harry Met Sally moment on New Year’s Eve, but that will never happen.

Stupidity abounds.

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