Some Kinda Love

Man, lack of sleep fucks me up.
I get so goddamn emotional.
Actually, it makes me fucking delusional.
So I can’t tell exactly what’s real right now and what isn’t.
Besides, I’m probably too close to all of this to write about it.
I have no perspective.
I don’t know what any of it means.
But here it is anyway.
Yesterday I felt like I wasn’t ready for any of this. I don’t know how to change, or I felt like I couldn’t change.
But it’s a choice.
Everything’s a choice.
The choice might be so fucking hard that it’s nearly impossible, but, ultimately, it is possible—I can change.
I can.
That’s what she keeps telling me.
It’s all about choice.
I argued with her about it, but then I gave up after awhile.
I mean, she’s right.
She convinced me.
The thing is, I was actually super committed to not getting involved with anyone—especially not falling in love.
I knew I wasn’t ready.
I mean, I know I’m not ready.
When I’m with someone I start to forget everything else in my life and just become completely absorbed in them. I feel so fucking good when I’m with them that I start to fear any second that we’ll have to be apart. I convince myself that I can’t live without them. My entire existence becomes dependant on the goddamn relationship.
It always happens.
It’s this default setting inside me.
I’m like a police dog incapable of disobeying a command.
But I guess that’s just the lie I tell myself—that I can’t do things differently.
I find myself reverting back to the exact same behaviors I’ve always engaged in—it tears me apart—but I’m not willing to do what it takes to change.
That is a choice.
Staying the same is so much easier—even if it breaks me wide open and destroys every relationship I’ve ever been in. That pain is still easier. It is the path of least resistance—and, as she keeps pointing out to me, if I keep repeating the same destructive pattern, I obviously must be getting something out of it. I mean, I must enjoy it in some masochistic sort of way.
Goddamn do I not want to admit that. The fact that there’s a piece of me that actually enjoys and seeks out the pain and drama is so totally shameful. It means I’m not as much of a victim as I like to think I am. It means I actually have to take some responsibility for the choices I make.
She’s taught me all these things.
And I fucking believe them.
I mean, they are the truth.
Anyway, so, yeah, I was trying not to get in a relationship again ‘cause I knew I wasn’t strong enough to not repeat those same fucked up patterns of mine. And, that’s reality, you know? I’m not.
So I just figured I’d stay away from girls and get strong on my own and then eventually be able to find some perfect, meaningful, non-codependent relationship.
That’s even what I was told to do by counselors and people at meetings.
But life doesn’t work like that.
There’s not some mathematical equation humans can be plugged into in order to solve whatever problem they might be having. I’m not the letter X or Y. I’m not some variable. Life plays itself out and, as similar as we all are, we are also so very different. And besides, it seems like no matter how much preparation I have, when I’m put back in an old situation, I forget everything I’ve learned and just react like I always have.
I’m dumb.
And life happens.
We have no control over that at all.
But what we do with it is our choice.
So this is my choice today.
Yesterday I got so scared I almost called it off.
But today I’m choosing to keep trying—not run away—maybe fucking grow up for once.
The girl, right? The girl met me at a coffee shop—the product of some random seating arrangement and, uh, just starting to talk.
Fuck, man, that was last Thursday.
We’ve probably talked a thousand hours since then.
And I was trying to stay detached and whatever—not get involved. But, more and more, with everyday, I began to see this person as uniquely beautiful and brilliant—so different from me in so many ways, but still so similar.
I made the choice to go further.
We talked and hung out and learned more and more.
But, before I even was aware of it, we’d basically been together almost every second of everyday since that first day we first met.
That feeling started coming on me, right? That feeling like the only happiness I’d ever known was with her and that I couldn’t stand being away from her. It was weird, too, ‘cause the more I was clinging to her, the more afraid I was of letting go.
But it wasn’t just that, my whole perception shifted. It was like I was actually starting to believe that I couldn’t exist without her.
The reality, of course, is that I actually really like my life today, regardless of whether she’s in it or not. I like my time alone—my time with my other friends.
The feelings I had weren’t real. They were a distorted delusion. And It’s my choice whether to keep indulging in the illusion, or actually make the totally terrifying effort to try something new.
But yesterday it seemed hopeless—like I couldn’t make that choice and I was gonna have to run to save myself from burning out.
I hadn’t mentioned this to her at all, though, when she told me very plainly that she was worried about becoming too codependent with me and that she thought we should spend a day apart—try to only communicate once or twice through text messages.
Alright, so, uh, that seems like a pretty easy thing to accomplish, right? I mean, spend one day apart from someone you met a week ago.
But, fuck, it was like having nails driven into my lungs when she first said it. I felt like curling up to nothing.
I knew she was right, but I felt powerless to pull away from her—even for a day.
It felt impossible.
Still, though, I began to look back at my life and I could see how every time I’d been faced with a situation like this, I’d always folded—I’d always chosen to just do the same thing over and over. I kinda had this realization that if I didn’t fucking try to face this shit—to learn, while allowing myself to make mistakes, nothing would ever change. I had to pull the goddamn bandage off my skin.
So, fuck, here we go.
Day one of trying to maybe engage in a healthy relationship—whatever that means.
Right this second it feels like I’m going to fail.
Maybe if I sleep some that’ll change.
I’m fucking tired.
Tired of all this shit really.
So, uh, yeah, we’ll see.