09.04.2004
Sean and other Foibles
I read some other guy's diary today and it was so depressing, about him and his last relationship with this wonderful girl who chose to be bulimic, sounds like. And of course, I think about my life, and I feel bitter towards that guy for at least having a quasi-relationship with her. At least he got to kiss her sometimes. My last guy I never kissed. Not once. And that makes me very angry. It also makes me angry that we never had a relationship, really. Friends with benefits, I guess, except he was the only one getting to "benefit" from it. And it makes me angry that I continued our friendship or whatever you want to call it and forgave him for all those things, day after day, because I really cared about him and thought he really needed a friend. That he needed me. And regardless of whether that's true, he's never once admitted any sort of caring or affection for me. And that makes me maddest of all.
Ok, so it's 15 months later and I'm still bitter. Maybe I wouldn't be if I didn't keep talking to him every so often, or maybe if I had someone special, the way he was special to me. Knew my jokes, my dorkiness, knew what my mouth looked like around the base of his cock. He knew more than most people do about me, and still turned me away, essentially. Never gave me a real chance to be anything to him other than some girl he knows. I showed him everything he did and didn't want to know about me, and he rejected me. Yes, that hurts. When people who don't know me reject me, it stings, but not like this deep slash of pain that fills me when I think about it too long.
And I hate myself for continually making excuses for him. Like I saw him last week, and I get angry because he treats me like just a friend. And I think, well, what reason does he have to think of me as more? I accepted his pathetic attempts at friendship for so long that he doesn't know any better now, or thinks it's what I want now. And it makes me sick, this constant re-evaluation of his actions to make him not an asshole. Because you know what? He is an asshole.
And I know I'm upset for a multitude of reasons that have nothing to do with Sean, but somehow when I feel shitty, all my recent shitty feelings entrap me, a maelstrom that I can't escape from. The fucking Bermuda triangle of self-doubt, despair, and self-loathing. I just want to be back in the hospital, lying on that bed, with nothing to do and no one to answer to, especially myself. Feeling the demerol sunlight in my veins, overtaking any worries or concerns I might have had. And where is the mind-obliterating sunlight now? I wish I could take something that would let me be a walking, talking coma. I know there are such things, but I don't want to do something that will permanently fuck up my life. I just want to temporarily fuck it up, leave my mind off in some void somewhere to heal while my body still goes to work, sees my family, etc. Is that so wrong?
alannablue at 6:40 p.m.