Bing

So I'm back in Binghamton and right now I'm actually feeling kind of okay.

It might be because my parents helped me out a lot with putting in the new oven and then went out with me to get foodstuffs and everything?  Or because tonight I made stuffing and rotisserie chicken and white rice for myself and two of my roommates, and we sat down and enjoyed it and everything.  Originally I made yellow rice (aka chicken and broccoli) but I messed up somehow and I think I burned it and all.  Oops.  I'll just have to try again another time.  Maybe the container I used messed with it too?  I'm not sure.  The stuffing came out awesome though.

And I think friend/guy (I guess that is the proper way to describe him now?) helps a lot too.  He seems really excited to see me and we are planning on cuddles and tv watchings and squishable playtimes and stuff (because we are both secretly five instead of 23 and 24).  So that helps.

But before I came back, I was thinking about something in particular - that serious thing that I kind of wanted to write about but didn't want to at that specific time.  I guess I'll talk about it now.

People tell me that I am special to them.  Friends, family, friend/guy...even the ex told me.  That I am special and that they wish I was not sad and that they would be sad if I were to leave.  However, I still sometimes don't believe that.  Or...sometimes I do.  I believe that perhaps I am special now, in this specific moment.  But in the future, I probably will not be.

The ex's actions after he broke up with me spelled something out: that I am not a person who deserves any kind of mourning.

That yeah, maybe I am special now, but I am not someone who is special enough for people to really miss for very long.  He left and almost immediately got back on the horse, and told me how much happier he was post-breakup, as soon as...less than two months.  Hearing that was crushing.  Actually...crushing does not even begin to describe it.  It took him so little time to move on from me.  To be happier without me.  He found others.  People who were better...and so I really was never all that special.  I was in the moment.  In the past.  But not enough to warrant a true mourning.

And so, my mind started to think that (well, in addition to truly not being special to anyone or being worth their love and attention) I was not a person who people would miss for a lengthened period of time.  My parents have three other daughters who are happier than me, for one.  Plus, my oldest wants a family and is always ready to talk and listen, my older is confident and does not let anyone give her shit, and my younger is super fucking talented.  Sure, I have my own strengths, but they are really in the academic field, and even then, I don't think they are very...notable.  My older sisters have husbands who love them, and my younger has great friends.  My friends have better friends who actually want to hang out and do fun things and all.

But...I don't know.  Maybe my parents, at least, would really miss me.

And Callie, who...I do like to think I am truly special to.

Man, I don't know.  The other day I was more thinking along the above pattern, that although my going away would hurt at first, it would not take long for everyone to be okay again.  Or even happier, without having to worry about me or what I am doing and stuff.  Ex was.  Why wouldn't other people be too?

But today I'm giving myself a bit more benefit?  Maybe I'm just in a good mood because of parents and roommates enjoying my food and all that stuff.  I'm sure it will go away eventually, but...for now...I don't know.

Last roommate apparently comes home tomorrow, and I am kind of...nervous about it.  We haven't really talked as much since the whole "you don't seem to care" incident, and I don't know if it is just going to boil over or if it is going to be awkward until we talk about it.

...Maybe I'll elaborate more on these points tomorrow.  Sleep now.