only a week
it's only been a week since we last exchanged emails. i doubt that anyone sees this blog.... i kind of hope not, but there's a part of me that hopes that he does? that someone does? who knows. i guess i do sort of hope that it's secret. cause for now, i'm using this 'supposed to be fodder for my frisbie book/parallels with my manic-depression chronicles' journal book as this stupid journey through my dealing with not being his friend or something.
stupid. and i guess this DOES fit in with the manic-depression thing, because i still haven't fleshed this out in the other blog, but he told me the last time we really talked that one of the things he was afraid of -- being my friend again, or ever, i guess -- was that he felt that he was going to have to save me. or that he'd FEEL like he'd have to.
i didn't really process it right then. to be honest, i didn't even get it at first. he started it with 'remember those three days in bed,' and i was all going to the ONE day we had spent in bed, sleeping, having sex. and it was overindulgent...by the end of the day, we were tired of laying around, if that makes sense. we didn't like how it felt...but we were sort of filled with inertia, and it was hard to move. it was strange, but we both didn't like how it felt. and i thought THAT was what he was going to reference....and i thought the 'three' was sort of a hyperbole or something....and then i got it.
he meant the THREE days i spent in HIS bed, meaning not together. when i slept and slept and slept. and didn't go to work. and he'd get up and get dressed and i'd see him in his work clothes and be so impressed and feel so warm and proud of him... of him and his work and his sexy work clothes and his important job that he worked so hard at and worried over and knew that he was somewhat unfulfilled at while dreams of films and photos and other things roamed around somewhere in his soul.... and he was so kind to let me stay at his house. he didn't really know WHAT to do, i suppose. and i just slept and slept and slept and didn't get up. his bedroom was very dark and conducive to the sleeping. and he'd come home, and i'd still be there, and sometimes we'd get stuff to eat. and by the second or third day one of my well-meaning friends actually called HIM at work to see where i was.
looking back, this is SO horrifying. what was it? a month and 1/2 into things? i'm trying not to cry thinking of it. what must he have thought. i mean, we were so in love. we were trying not to think of what would happen later because we were divided on the children issue, for heaven's sake. we were thinking about how we wanted to move in togther. but, i'm sure he was so scared. i know being the kind of person he is, he wanted to help me so much. and i know there was nothing he could do, really. i mean, all i ever really want is for someone to hold me.... sort of. i mean, sort of. i want that so much, but sometimes in that scenario, i'm so wrecked and embarrassed that i just want to sleep....
and i'm depressed again. i'm doing stuff about it. i called my doc today. i'm getting out. i'm going to a party tonight. i stayed home one day from work this week. but...what if no one will ever want to be with me, because i get depressed. or because they think they have to save me? what if even the most perfect fit just realizes that they don't want to deal with someone who suffers from a mental illness?
i'm trying.
i lost my best friends over this. it's different now, and better. and i realize that they were different people then, and we were all so struggling with so many things. i know that. but it still was really hard. and i know it was hard for everyone. but it was still hard. it was still really sad and hard and painful to have everyone say: we can't deal with this shit. we can't handle this crazy insanity sad fucked up shit on top of our own sad crazy messes. we have to go now.
and i'm so afraid it'll always be like that. that i'll always be broken and no one will ever want to stay. that i'll always be crazy.
i know it's so much more different. but the seasons will always change. it'll always get darker out and it will always be spring and it will always get to be january and the earth will always go around the sun.
i am better than i've ever been. i catch it earlier. i notice things more closely. i can figure out -- oh. this is a little different than 'normal.' oh, i think i might be depressed. it gets better and better with each season, each year.
but i just want people to love me for who i am. to try and take the ride of life with me.
i don't want my friends to leave anymore.
i miss them. i got some back. but i lost one again.
i'm just so sad right now. i wish i didn't have to be like this. really. there's lots of good stuff that goes with this, though. i think it makes me a good person and a good friend and a good person to know.
i wish you'd want to know me.
stupid. and i guess this DOES fit in with the manic-depression thing, because i still haven't fleshed this out in the other blog, but he told me the last time we really talked that one of the things he was afraid of -- being my friend again, or ever, i guess -- was that he felt that he was going to have to save me. or that he'd FEEL like he'd have to.
i didn't really process it right then. to be honest, i didn't even get it at first. he started it with 'remember those three days in bed,' and i was all going to the ONE day we had spent in bed, sleeping, having sex. and it was overindulgent...by the end of the day, we were tired of laying around, if that makes sense. we didn't like how it felt...but we were sort of filled with inertia, and it was hard to move. it was strange, but we both didn't like how it felt. and i thought THAT was what he was going to reference....and i thought the 'three' was sort of a hyperbole or something....and then i got it.
he meant the THREE days i spent in HIS bed, meaning not together. when i slept and slept and slept. and didn't go to work. and he'd get up and get dressed and i'd see him in his work clothes and be so impressed and feel so warm and proud of him... of him and his work and his sexy work clothes and his important job that he worked so hard at and worried over and knew that he was somewhat unfulfilled at while dreams of films and photos and other things roamed around somewhere in his soul.... and he was so kind to let me stay at his house. he didn't really know WHAT to do, i suppose. and i just slept and slept and slept and didn't get up. his bedroom was very dark and conducive to the sleeping. and he'd come home, and i'd still be there, and sometimes we'd get stuff to eat. and by the second or third day one of my well-meaning friends actually called HIM at work to see where i was.
looking back, this is SO horrifying. what was it? a month and 1/2 into things? i'm trying not to cry thinking of it. what must he have thought. i mean, we were so in love. we were trying not to think of what would happen later because we were divided on the children issue, for heaven's sake. we were thinking about how we wanted to move in togther. but, i'm sure he was so scared. i know being the kind of person he is, he wanted to help me so much. and i know there was nothing he could do, really. i mean, all i ever really want is for someone to hold me.... sort of. i mean, sort of. i want that so much, but sometimes in that scenario, i'm so wrecked and embarrassed that i just want to sleep....
and i'm depressed again. i'm doing stuff about it. i called my doc today. i'm getting out. i'm going to a party tonight. i stayed home one day from work this week. but...what if no one will ever want to be with me, because i get depressed. or because they think they have to save me? what if even the most perfect fit just realizes that they don't want to deal with someone who suffers from a mental illness?
i'm trying.
i lost my best friends over this. it's different now, and better. and i realize that they were different people then, and we were all so struggling with so many things. i know that. but it still was really hard. and i know it was hard for everyone. but it was still hard. it was still really sad and hard and painful to have everyone say: we can't deal with this shit. we can't handle this crazy insanity sad fucked up shit on top of our own sad crazy messes. we have to go now.
and i'm so afraid it'll always be like that. that i'll always be broken and no one will ever want to stay. that i'll always be crazy.
i know it's so much more different. but the seasons will always change. it'll always get darker out and it will always be spring and it will always get to be january and the earth will always go around the sun.
i am better than i've ever been. i catch it earlier. i notice things more closely. i can figure out -- oh. this is a little different than 'normal.' oh, i think i might be depressed. it gets better and better with each season, each year.
but i just want people to love me for who i am. to try and take the ride of life with me.
i don't want my friends to leave anymore.
i miss them. i got some back. but i lost one again.
i'm just so sad right now. i wish i didn't have to be like this. really. there's lots of good stuff that goes with this, though. i think it makes me a good person and a good friend and a good person to know.
i wish you'd want to know me.
