Woke up after sleeping for three hours, like always. The full impact of what happened earlier hit me, and now I can’t sleep again.
I’ve been debating two things for a few minutes.
- Whether or not I should make this post.
- What to call it.
I have now made a decision. I am making this post, because I need to get this out somehow. And all I know to do when I have overpowering emotions is blog about it, apparently. But I am temporarily shutting down Facebook sharing for it. Just, well, because. Also not categorizing/tagging because I don’t want it to show up in WordPress search. And you see the title.
Rory and I have been having problems for a while. And when I say having problems, I mean that he’s been being his usual self and I’ve been doing stupid shit.
And when I say he’s been being his usual self, I mean that he’s been dealing with depression.
And when I say I’ve been doing stupid shit, I mean breaking down because I can’t handle being close to and supporting people dealing with serious depression, breaking up with him twice in a week because of that, and confessing I’m still extremely in love with, flirting with, then making out with an ex when said ex is in a monogamous relationship anyway, and denying and then realizing that I am somewhat afraid of commitment and cannot accept that I can have a happy life with someone. (And those are only the major things. There is, in fact, more stupid shit.)
Extrapolating on some of the things I just said.
I have emotional baggage relating to being close to people with serious depression and even vaguely (by vaguely, I mean I will break down if it is even mentioned) suicidal. I don’t particularly want to write why this is true in a public blog post. Not even some of my friends know why, so obviously I don’t want everyone to. But it’s because of some things that happened with someone I dated a while back.
Not even going into the whole being in love with an ex and all. It’s extremely stupid and despite what we might feel for each other, acting on it… shouldn’t have happened. Unfortunately, I didn’t even realize that it wasn’t a good idea until after it did happen.
Rory said during a fight/argument/something with lots of angry words that I’m afraid of commitment. I scoffed and said that I wasn’t and it had nothing to do with what we’ve been going through anyway. I realized something later though: I am. I am, as a matter of fact, afraid of commitment. I have this idea in my head that all relationships will eventually either fail, or become dysfunctional and then fail, or become so boring that the people involved fall out of love. The thing is, though, I’ve had three serious relationships in my whole life. The one with Rory is so much more serious and has lasted so much longer than the other two. I am expecting it to fail. I am expecting it to become dysfunctional. And it has become dysfunctional, in a sense. But I never expected that we’d want to change that at all. I never expected for us to even try after that.
So I guess, if I actually do want it to work, I need time away. Or something. We’re maybe kind of broken up right now. To be honest I don’t know the state of our relationship because in the middle of talking about it, the major pain I’d been dealing with all day got even worse, and I just went to bed.
I don’t know how it will go after this. I don’t know how things are going to work out right now. All I know is that I’m kind of really miserable. Rory and I, could, eventually, be good for each other. I don’t know why I’ve been risking fucking it up.
I should be happy right now. I should be excited, because I’m going to college. I’m leaving today. And later, I’ll probably throw myself into everything and into getting the car packed and getting things together, and forget about the whole thing for a little while. But, right now, all I can do is remain miserable.
That is all. Sorry, followers, for all the feelings dumping.