I've been considering this particular thing kind of bit by bit for a long while now, but only now am I starting to really think about it and everything. Of course, it has to do with the ex and everything, and might be yet another way of me telling myself that he is a piece of shit and never deserved to be with me and everything. Another way of telling myself that he's not worth any effort.
My significant other should know the true me. And want to know the true me. And I don't think he wanted to. I don't think he ever really tried.
The me that I present to the world is much more confident and happy than how I truly am inside. I don't do that with the intention of tricking people. I do that because I think it is how I am supposed to act, and I consider my true self less perfect than that.
So sometimes when my true self shines through, people don't understand. Because it comes as a shock.
I knew how sad he was for a long time. I knew it was because of his condition, and I wanted to try my best to help him. I gave him space, I let him do whatever he wanted, I didn't complain when he just wanted to lay and watch stuff...I didn't mind, because I wanted to know the true him. Despite his sadness, I loved the true him. All I wanted (at the time) was to see him happy. So I tried my best to allow him to realize that. Because I know that that sort of happiness doesn't just come. I couldn't make it happen for him, despite how much I desperately wanted to. No one ever will be able to. And I'm not saying that to be mean (shocking, I know). I know no one will be able to for me either. As much I want people to for me. It doesn't work that way. It really really doesn't.
But unlike how I loved the true him, I don't think he loved the true me. Because he didn't know the true me. He didn't make an effort to learn who I truly was.
So when that sadness that I carry started to shine through...he abandoned me.
Under the guise of wanting to protect me.
He couldn't deal with me being sad.
Despite that I was carrying both of our sadnesses (fuck that's not even a word but whatever) for months.
He misinterpreted my sadness as being completely due to our relationship. But again, if he ever made an effort to know the real me, he would know that wasn't true. Part of me, yes of course, was sad because of it, but I was sad for many other reasons. That he had no control over.
I don't think he ever really understood (or tried to understand) how worthless I find myself. I would tell him that I often had found myself not good enough for him, and that was true. I didn't a lot of times. He was better at so many things. I became discouraged. Hell, I didn't want to do so much with him after a while simply because I felt so damn inadequate next to him. Video games, racquetball, math homework...a lot of different things. I remember one time we were playing racquetball and I just sucked so hard and I felt terrible because of it so I excused myself and let him and his friend play. Immediately I just went to a bench away from people and cried. I cried because I was so pathetic that I couldn't even compete against him in a sport I felt like I should have been better at. And then when we were at a tournament of his - the one time I went to one - I was fine at first, but once it finished and everyone started playing...I refused to jump in. And I became sad. Not because of him playing. No, not because of that at all. Not because he wasn't paying attention to me. No. I became sad because I felt like I sucked. Here I was with players who were legitimately great; I couldn't bring myself to actually play with them. I felt small in comparison. I felt pathetic and worthless and wanted to disappear. That is why I got sad.
And then when he told me about his sadness I became sad because I told myself that if I was just a better goddamn girlfriend, maybe he would be just a little fucking happier. Not completely, because again I couldn't actually do that, but maybe he wouldn't be so sad all the time.
The root of the majority of my sadness when we were together was based in my own self-hatred and perfectionism.
But he didn't actually see that. He didn't see the real me. Nor did he really try to. And because he didn't try hard enough, I increasingly didn't want to show him. I never want to show people for various reasons, but my significant other should want to see it. And should love me regardless of it.
He couldn't deal with the real me. With the me that is sad a lot of times and the me that hates myself more than anyone else and the me that people do not see a lot of times.
He didn't want to deal with the real me. So he ran. He ran from me when I needed him to be there.
When I needed the street to be two-way instead of the one-way road it always was during our relationship, with me propping him up and ignoring my own self because I always do that, he decided he did not want that. He did not want to try for me the way I had done and would have continued to do for him.
Of course, all of this was probably subconscious and everything, but this is actually what I truly think happened.
It wasn't his depression which caused him to break up with me.
It was mine.
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