Sleep Beckons, Thoughts Disturb

I had a busy day. Except I don't remember most of my day. Like I was just going through the motions a bit. I mean not really, I was in it at the time, but now it all seems very far away.

Thirty minutes to midnight, the flatmate isn't home and I'm sleepy. Except I'm mulling over things. So if I go to bed I'm going to lay there and think about things and I'm not going to sleep for a while.

There is this episode of 'Friends' where Rachel wants to tell Ross she loves him before his wedding to Emily. And Monica tries to convince her not to and uses as a benchmark that if Rachel can find one person who agrees with her, that she would then give her permission for Rachel to do it. It's pathetic when 'Friends' can be used as a life lesson.

There isn't one person I talk to about Mr.Aloof who isn't in some way thrilled about what I've done. In a supportive way, mind you. I haven't spoken to a single person who disagrees in any way with what has happened. So why does it feel so crappy?

I know that this will all pass in time. I know that even yesterday I wasn't missing him so much. It comes and it goes and it probably will for a while, until the going is most of the time and the coming is minimal. It just frustrates me so much that it had to be like this. It angers me that someone could be so screwed up that they can't deal with life in a grown up or adult manner. And I suppose part of me takes it personally that somehow I failed- that I couldn't make it work, that I couldn't fix it, and that somehow this is my fault.

I know it's not really like that. I did everything and more. I just don't understand why it wasn't enough. Why it couldn't be enough. And I do miss him. Not the shitty bits. Never that. But the conversation. The just being there, even if it was mostly in an electronic format. And I miss the hope and the promise even though that was the part that did the most damage. I miss knowing someone who shared that part of me. Who seemed to understand that part of me. It's a rare thing. A special thing. And it was treated like so much garbage. Why?

I know you never get the answers to 'why'. And I know that I need to get to the point where 'why' doesn't bother me so much. But it really does. Like picking at a sore wound. I want to scream "Why? Why? Why? Why?". And I want an answer. But of course, I know this is only because I feel that if I only knew why, I could fix it and make it better maybe.

It's all about the hope. And losing it.

What is that saying? That the opposite of love is not hate, it's apathy. Because the opposite of caring about something so much- whether that's positive or negative, is simply not to care about it at all.

I still care. And I will for a while. And even when I think I don't, I will from time to time. Until one day, truly, I won't- because I won't remember. I know this because it is how it's been with the other loves in my life. Three of them come to mind. Who were once so important and everything to me. Now I think of them in such a distant way and there is no emotion there whatsoever. So I know that this is what happens. But it does take some time.

Still. Time is passing. There has been no word. And every day passed is another day further distant. And I'll get there, eventually.