Another Spiral

So here we are. Restriction is over and it seems I've gotten the answer to my worries.

There's been no contact. No phone call, no text returning mine, no meeting. Appears all my fears were well founded and are now confirmed. I've put myself into the exact situation I didn't want to be in. I swore off emotions months ago so I wouldn't have to feel like I do now. But he wore me down and broke through the walls I had up.

I'm sitting here crying my eyes out, though I'll blame that on the Notebook, listening to depressing country songs, and thinking about everything I did wrong and those I've loved in the past. Granted I'm not in love currently, that's where my mind tends to go. Quite often in fact.

Perhaps I'm thinking over past loves because I've been talking to one recently. He was the last serious relationship I had and apparently I made an impression. We were good for each other and surprisingly I'm a compassionate and considerate girlfriend. But we wanted different things with our lives and it never would have gone further.

Then I think about the last person I fell for, which didn't end well. I suppose that's when my walls began to go up. I fell hard completely only to be crushed. So I don't trust people. Because of him, because of the infamous ex, because of death, because of experience.

I'm fighting the urge to hurt myself. I know where my scalpel is and I want to use it. Not because a boy stood me up. But because of the constant feelings of inadequacy I've had lately. I've been having bouts of depression again. I've been feeling that I'm never going to be good enough or accomplish anything. All I want to do is stay in bed forever and pretend the outside world doesn't exist, it certainly isn't going to miss me.

The screen is beginning to blur more and more as the tears start to fall again. I don't have really anyone to talk to. I have some friends, but no one I could call at 1am and just cry to. I honestly don't think I have anyone that would be there for me through anything. I would be there for them, but probably not for me.

I'm leaving these headphones on and leaving my phone across the room. I'm blocking it all out.

My Inner Turmoil Of The Moment

Well here we are on day 32 of 45 and I'm starting to doubt my decision to go ahead with a relationship. I honestly think I'm too much of an emotional wreck to drag another person that deeply into my world. Over the last couple days I've had these powerful depressive moods where all I want to do is cry and think about how insignificant in the world. I'm beginning to feel as though all the important people in my life are disappearing and I don't seem to be handling that well. I'm still heavily mourning the death of my friend and now the weird emotional attachments to my Marine are starting to feel strange.

In two weeks I might hear from him. I'm afraid I won't, that he forgot about me. On the other hand, I'm kind of hoping he has forgotten about me. It'll save me some emotional turmoil. It'll save me all the effort I'd need to figure out if I'm ready to bring someone in. I miss him more than anything. I love his laugh and his ease at making me laugh. I feel comfortable with him and everything we've done. But love, commitment, long term... Those concepts terrify me. Just thinking about it makes me want to run for the hills and pretend it was never brought up. How I'm to get over this, I suppose time is the only answer. Unless of course someone out there has some secret remedy they could share.

If I pretend I don't have these feelings of longing or romance, if I pretend that I'm not still miserable about death, then I appear happy. I can joke around and flirt with randoms. I can live out my day as though I have no serious concerns or cares. I like that world. The oblivious world I have created for myself. It's rather nice here.

Not Enough Distractions

I'm feeling damn conflicted lately. I'm lonely, angry. I miss Rob. I miss the new boy. But I wish I  didn't miss either. Next week will be three months since the death and I still think of Rob almost daily. It's been about eighteen days since I last saw the boy, who went and got himself on Marine restriction for 45 days.  If we were able to talk, this would be so much easier.

The first night of his restriction, I went to a bar and got trashed. I ended up telling everyone I had a boyfriend and making out with a cowboy whose hat I stole, a chick who wanted to take me home with her boyfriend, and turned down two other offers. It felt pretty damn good. Until I saw that cowboy the following week during work.

Last Monday I went out again all dolled up. Hit on someone else. My god what a prude. I got a hug, kiss on the forehead, and a number. Which he didn't use. It's not like I wanted to fuck the dude. Just make out.
 I just want a little validation since I can't talk to the person I really want to.

I'm still single, but I supposed I'm emotionally taken? I'm not sleeping with anyone because I'm only thinking of one person. Making out and hitting on people is just a distraction from these stronger feelings. I don't like feelings and it's kind of freaking me out. I like him. I haven't seriously wanted to date someone in a long time, even before all the commitment phobe trouble. And now I'm all insecure about being the only one with feelings.

Oh, I also had to take a delivery to Drunk Dick the other day. Awkward much? Ugh.

Delayed Ramblings

So I'm kind of an emotional wreck nowadays. Anything that resembles commitment scares me off. A guy asking me for a date has me making excuses, fake boyfriends. I don't want to let anyone else in. I'm afraid of giving someone every weapon they need to destroy everything I am. Because of this, I put all stock into the physical. If I'm craving closeness, I attempt to get someone in bed. Though that hasn't worked yet, but I have tried. I envision myself naked with more people than I care to admit.

I'm still blaming Rob's death on love and commitment no matter how wrong that is. I honestly believe he would still be alive if not for his feelings for someone. The accident was a result of a love spat and his eventual death was him giving up. I'm not ready to die, no matter how many times I visualize it. The days of me wanting to live greatly outnumber the days I consider driving into oncoming traffic.

I'm getting lonely. Lately I've actually been getting hours and been working as much as I can. I've been trying to keep busy, keep my mind occupied. But in those slow moments when I'm driving or when Facebook shows me something about Rob, I have to fight back tears. I have to force myself to stop picturing our last moments together, our last conversation. I didn't think he was so important to me until he was gone.

I want nothing more than to cuddle in bed with someone who cares about me. I want to be wanted. I'm being pretty damn self destructive with this anti commitment and love thing I'm going through. The people I want to be with are all in Massachusetts and I would kill for the chance to see them again. Husband is offering to pay for my plane ticket up there and to take care of me for a week. I'm currently trying to figure out if I could afford to take a week off work. If I have to live off ramen for awhile, I'm completely willing.

I want my family back.

*I was just about to post this but got pulled to Facebook for some reason or another. On my profile, Rob is the first person listed. I can kill myself now.

Saturday marked one month since Rob was in a car accident, the day his expiration date read one week. I'm still angry. I've denounced any emotional attachments to people that could potentially hurt me somewhere in the distant or not so distant future. I've decided that being single is the best possible thing for me right now while simultaneously having dreams about marriage and pregnancy. My brain is in such a state of contradiction I'm pretty sure it's peaking at World Record status.

I've had almost no voice for almost a week now. I talk as little as possible, though I still find myself talking about the death. I miss my ghetto Canadian. I miss walking through the neighborhood smoking cigars like we're cool kids. I voice my fears and losses even when I don't have a voice. The funny part in all this, I'm getting hit on more with no voice and state of constant anger.

I want to be back on my Cape Cod beaches. The ocean was always the one constant in my life, even though it's ever changing. The rolling waves crashing against the jetties always had a way of straightening out my thoughts.

To My Canadian

This certainly isn't the last letter I will write to you. I'm sure I'll end up writing a handful more that I hope reach you somehow. The last time I spoke to you I was hateful. I was hurt and upset. And while I'm sorry for how I said those things, I'm not sorry for what I said.

Your death has caused many emotions to come to the surface. Grief, anger, loneliness, regret, guilt. I haven't stopped thinking about you since I last spoke to you. Which happened to be twelve hours before you crashed. You told me you wanted to move this way, we talked about hanging out again. You hit on me. That affects me more now than it did at the time. I have to live with flirtations being the last words you said to me. I regret now not returning those remarks in a more serious manner.

Thinking back to when we first met, I did everything wrong. I drunkenly kissed you, that was our first meeting. After which I decided to give you a chance to correct my drunken mistake, but I couldn't go through with it. I admit the only reason I slept with you that once was because of my Canadian fascination. I unintentionally strung you along like a lovesick puppy as I was seeing other people. I feel horrible that I never was able to return the feelings you had for me. But I'm happy that a friendship was able to come out of it.

Hanging out with you was always one of my favorite parts of visiting my family. I think one of my best memories was our walk around the neighborhood talking about everything and anything. You were one of those kind hearted people that took everything in stride and I was felt as I could confide in you. Which is probably why I kept in touch with you after I cut off that portion of my family.

I've already told you why I'm angry, so I probably shouldn't touch on that again. My knuckles honestly can't take it anymore. So moving on to the part that will most likely have me in tears.

I blame love and relationships for your death. Because of that, I've kind of taken a stand against both and refuse to partake in such things. Love kills you, this is what I have learned from you passing. You gave up on life because a girl didn't love you. So why would I put myself through something like that? Why would I intentionally put myself in the situation where another person decides my fate? Sorry, but not going to happen. I've become emotionally unable to create stable emotional relationships with men. At this point, I think a simple fuck buddy would be too much commitment for me. Oh yes, that's a new one. I've started using that term. I now say I'm going to fuck someone, changes.

I'm almost happy I have no chance with the current man I'm attracted to. He's ten years older, gorgeous, and a sweetheart. Good thing I go out of my league so I have no chance of freaking out on him. I was talking to my Spanish Brother the other night because I was suddenly hit with a wave of sadness. The first thing I asked him, other than not to be biased, was "Am I unworthy of love?" I'm trying to convince myself of such thoughts to prove love is pointless. Love is a crutch for the weak and a weapon for the strong. End of story.

Platonic love I'm still good with. So for the first time, I love you Rob. I hate that you left me. But I sincerely hope you find everything you're looking for in your next life.

Love Kills Or How I'm Using Rob's Death to Justify Why I Hate Love

My friend died. My ghetto Canadian is gone. My friend of just a few years, whom was more than a friend at one point, passed away two days ago after being in a coma for a week. I've been in denial just slightly.

I'm officially in the anger phase.

I'm mad at Rob. The fucking asshole did it to himself. The accident was his fault. He was speeding in the downpour and hit a sharp curve going too fast. He left his lane and got clipped by a pick up. He drives drove a tiny ass car, smaller than the one I drive now. This caused him to fish tail, getting t-boned by a second pick up. His car flipped. Fuck you, Rob, for causing this and being to goddamn stupid to slow down in that weather.

Rob had gotten into a fight that morning with his girlfriend. They broke up because she didn't love him anymore while he was still in love with her. He said he didn't care to live anymore. Well, apparently someone was listening and made it happen. He fucking gave up and stopped fighting to live. She even had the goddamn nerve to show up at the hospital even though no one wanted her there. So fuck you, bitch, I'm blaming this all on you.

I spoke to him the night before this happened. Twelve hours before he was speeding down that road, Rob was talking to me. He said he missed me, he told me his plans to move to the Carolinas to be close to his best friend, my cousin, who had moved to South Carolina. He fucking hit on me. We talked about the time we had tried to go out. Our one date, the time we slept together, joked about it happening it again. Well guess what, asshole? It fucking won't.

I'm officially convinced that he died because of love. I'm going to stay convinced no matter how much anyone tried to prove otherwise, which many attempted earlier. Everything that caused his death started with his broken heart. So fuck love. Fuck relationships.

I'm using this one thing as an excuse to justify my commitment issues. What's the point of a relationship when it just ends in pain and ultimately death? Sorry, but I much rather live and not want to die everyday. I haven't wanted or been able to handle a relationship in a while and at this point, I don't even think I want to deal with a bone buddy. That's too much commitment for me.

I can't deal with anymore personal relationships at this point in time. I'm too angry. I'm angry with just about everything. Love, relationships, commitment, life, people, the world. When I want to punch something or someone everything five minutes, I don't think it's smart to involve people in my life. I can barely feel my hand from punching the ceiling of my car all night.

Love is pointless.