Yesterday was a truly lousy day for me. Since beginning a new medication, my mood has been unstable. Last night I lost my shit completely. I was crying on and off for several hours. It started with watching an episode of Star Trek (“The Survivors”) and realising that I wanted someone that would step up for me, someone that would love me enough to miss me if I was gone – maybe not enough to destroy an entire species, but you know. I rage cleaned my kitchen while crying, wondering how I got where I have. People have loved me. I just never loved them back. Not the way that they deserved.
Then I fell in love with him. I explained to him how it happened. It was not some romantic gesture. It was not love at first sight. It was something that grew from compassion and now it is something unrestricted – I might run away from the situation, but the love never waxes or wanes. I can live without him (obviously) and I want nothing but his happiness.
It is nothing like anything I have experienced.
The issue is that I am not “allowed” to express my feelings for him to him. I learned early on that it makes him uncomfortable. So, I swallowed them. They come out in poems about love lost or when I have had a few drinks, sometimes something prettier. I am in love! but not really. It is like ordering a lovely dress that you pay for that never gets delivered to your house but you can look at the thumbnail of it in your email. It is yours! but you will never get to wear it.
LL told me I would explode one of these days. She told me it was stupid because he cared for me, too, so why was I doing this to myself? I shrugged and pretended that everything was awful and blah blah blah
The days turned into months as pesky clock time does and then we have yesterday. It all leaked out like a heavy flow day on a panty liner. Messy, warm and embarrassing.
All on his lap. He got it all – he paid attention to half of it, bless his heart. He did the best he could with it, I know he did. Not all of it had to do with him, I had shit with Paul, my job, wanting to move back home, missing my brother – not every woe in my life has to do with a guy – I just wanted him to wrap his long arms around me and tell me everything was going to be OK but he is five fucking hours away and I am not sure how much of a soother he is anyway. He did his best. He stopped responding at some point – and today he has not said anything to me because, well… he has probably had his Melinda-fill for sixty-two months now.
I really thought I was going to jump into traffic. He kept me talking. I appreciate him.