On relationships (or lack thereof)

I apologize right now that a topic of this blog will most likely be friendships/relationships/stupid topics befitting the adolescence I have since passed.  Maybe it is because I'm a grad student, or because I think I'm older than I am, but I always feel like an immature schoolgirl when I write or talk about such things.  Just as long as I don't write like one.  I hope I don't.  If I do, please someone smack me across the face (whether in real life, or the internet...just warn me of the reason if it happens in real life).

Even now, while watching the Battlestar Galactica miniseries with my roommate, I think about things long past.  Or things for the future.  Or maybe I just wanted so badly to write this stream-of-consciousness that my mind wouldn't allow me to think of other things until I actually put my thoughts to paper (or...screen, I guess).

The only real relationship I've ever had was the only one I ever really wanted.  Before then, I had no desire to date, or be so close to someone in such an intimate way.  I was completely fine with that.  It was the life I wanted; I built a fort around myself, and refused to come out.  I was afraid of being vulnerable, of opening up myself to get hurt, and of practically everything else when you decide to become a pair with someone else.

I met someone that made me change my mind, though.  And while I was with him, I wondered why I was ever afraid.  I sincerely thought that we were perfect for each other (and even now, that thought crosses my mind...), and that nothing would tear us apart.

Then, when he ended things, I wondered how I was ever not afraid.  I still wonder that.  Someone I was in love with, and was convinced loved me in the same way and to the same degree, hurt me in a way I couldn't have imagined when we were together.  Being afraid of that possibility would have at least cushioned the blow that eventually happened.  Maybe.

I could easily say the next few months after the breakup were the worst of my life.  I used to make fun of people who didn't bounce back after a breakup immediately.  Now, I understand them more, and apologize to all of those people, even though they will not see that.

I have gone against the advice of so many who love me and who I know are only trying to protect me.  And I am deeply sorry to them.  That I have done stupid things which has caused me to hurt them...I only blame myself, and my own weaknesses.  The weakness that leaves me hoping about possibilities for the future, and hoping that all he has told me is the complete truth, despite my own reservations about...well everything.

Obviously, I'm not over it yet.  Though it has been 6 months.  I feel like I should be.  Am I much better than I was last month?  Yes.  Way better.  But.  It's hard to fall out of love, I guess.  I'm waiting for that to happen; the day I realize that will be fantastic for me, I am guessing.

I know I'm not yet out of love because of how much I loathe...idk what to call her.  Rebound girl?  Summer fling?  Whatever pseudonym/code name I give her doesn't matter.  I know it is wrong of me to hate her as much as I do, but I cannot help it.  She represents the demise not of my relationship, but of the trust I had in it.  The feelings that I believed to be true, even after the relationship, I now look back on with skepticism, because of whatever happened between him and her,  mostly because of the time frame it happened in.  What was it...like two months?  And yes, I'm aware that they didn't have a relationship the same way we had, and what happened between them was nothing in comparison to us, since we were actually together, and formed a connection that I seriously wonder whether or not it can be repeated (at least on my part), but it still creates a gross-feeling knot in my stomach that I wish I could be rid of.

[Edit: Holy hell the syntax and grammar in that previous paragraph is atrocious.  But I'm too lazy to fix it.  I promise to try and write better in the future.]

Am I so easy to get over?  Or was it just that those feelings weren't really all that true to begin with?    

Being friends is not my ideal.  I would rather we go back to how things were a year ago, but that is impossible.  Our friendliness has been really good, but I wonder if and when there will ever be a time I don't want something more.

I hope that when he wants something more with anyone again...that he'll at least think of me.  Pathetic, I know, but it's something I wish for in the back of my mind.  I want to ask how exactly he feels about me: "do you still love me?"  I'm afraid of the answer, though.  I don't want to face the perhaps obvious truth.  So it's better I just...save that question for when more time passes.

Only time will be able to solve these issues for me, I know.  Even though I have cursed and spat at time in the past, I realize that it is my greatest ally.  Time will eventually give me the answers I seek, the future I desire, or something completely different altogether.

So...I'm okay with waiting, at least for a while, to see what happens.  In a sick way, it is almost exciting, not knowing.  Exciting and nerve-wracking.  It both terrifies me, and gives me hope.

Whatever happens.  I'll be okay.  In the end, I know this.  Despite the anger and hurt I feel and have felt and will feel...I'll be okay.  My strength has been returning; I've felt more like my old self since returning to school.  I'll be okay.

And knowing that is amazing.

Lame. Also, the beginning.

Once upon a time, I had a livejournal, and was rather frequent in my updating it, even though it was usually about stupid shit having to do with my usually unproductive life.  Although it often consisted of cursing or excited capslock entries, it was actually, in its own very special way, therapeutic for me.  Plus, it kept me writing during times where I normally would not be, even if said writing was not nearly as skillful or eloquent as I would save for an assignment or essay for my classes.

A few of my friends have begun to blog about their lives again, and it has reminded me of how doing so can also help me with...well a lot of things, I guess.  Extra writing practice (as long as I don't always travel into the 'OMG MY FEELS' type of grammar, though I cannot promise that won't happen a few times), a chance to discuss feelings or things going on...and while I'm perfectly aware I can do all of these things on Microsoft Word or something, doing it on the internet seems like a better idea.  I'm hypocritical in a sense; I want to talk about my private life for me, but at the same time, the idea of others reading about it is appealing.  (I don't know if hypocrisy is the right word for that, but it feels appropriate, for some reason.)  Even if it leaves me open and everything.  I don't know, sometimes I just want people to see.

I hope that's not a cry for help or anything.  I wonder about that at times.

Whether or not I will keep up with this is unknown at the time.  I always say that I'm going to, but...well I said that with twitter, my second livejournal, my roleplays...and pretty much all of those things died.  Mostly because I got bored with them.  That happens.  As of now I would like to keep up with this at least through my first year of grad school, but who knows.

I also can't promise that this will be exciting.  I like to think myself as a fun person (and believe me, a lot of times I'm not nearly as serious as this entry makes me seem), but more serious topics than not will probably be on here.  Then again, I might just spend time writing about video games or something.  Or politics.  Who knows?  I never really can tell what's going to happen when I start a new project, if I can even graciously call this endeavour that.

Also, don't mind that 'u'.  I tend to favour the British spelling of a few words; not all, but quite a bit.  It's a habit that I probably should get out of as I restart school in the United States.