Subconscious

Today has been...weird.  In terms of feels.

I haven't been able to really focus on anything.  Coding has been almost impossible for some reason, and my stomach has felt weird.  Despite the fact that my appetite was nonexistent, I at least ate some watermelon during the day, and then I had some food at dinner, though it was reluctant at best.  I just kind of was going through motions and kept putting rice in my mouth because I knew that I had put so little in me throughout the day.

Really, I guess it isn't weird, since it has been normal in the past.  It just hasn't happened all that much within the past few weeks since I've been home.


This whole idea of an in-person confrontation and closure has been nagging at me, probably because the window is closing fast.  Not that my thinking about it will make it happen or anything, as it is just a thought.

Maybe the things I wrote about yesterday screwed me up more than usual.  Writing things down in a way that pins even what I thought was the perfect beginning of what we had has hit me weird.  I don't know.  I know I have continually written about things in an effort to examine the thoughts in my head and to try and see what went wrong.  I have gone from wondering what else I could have done to realizing - with a hopeless melancholy - that there was nothing I could have done.

That hopelessness has consumed me for years.  Even before he and I met.  And he crafted our relationship in a way where I became an extension of him.  I lost my identity as an individual.  While I had it in the beginning, it faded more and more until I became someone who existed only for him, I felt.  Before him, I did not like people who spent all their time fostering their relationship and staying only with their significant others.  Yet as I did more and more for him to try and make him happy, I lost more and more of myself.  When he ended things, all I identified myself as for the time I was with him crumbled, and I felt like I had no purpose.  The love of my family and friends...it did not mean much to me, because I did not really exist if he was not with me.

Of course, this was all subconscious.

In a way, I should be somewhat grateful that he noticed this at least.  It was a little late in the game when he did, and I would still maintain it was also because I just couldn't help him anymore.  But he did admit when he broke up with me that he was sucking the life out of me and taking advantage of me and all that I was doing for him.  I couldn't see it that way for a very long time, because that was my identified purpose (again, subconsciously).  But...he also continued to do exactly what he said he hated.

As I scrambled, trying to figure out what to do with myself, I expressed my feelings and emotions to him, often angrily or through despair.  But many of my points were valid.  Not all, I will admit, but many were.  In response to my saying I felt betrayed, I was told that I was being illogical and selfish.  I was told that I was reneging on an agreement when I talked about the money he still owed my father, telling me that we said that I would pay that, when I never recalled making that agreement.  When I finally made the decision to stop talking - as he repeatedly told me to do - it did not take long for him to send me a message saying that he missed me.  Then came the multitude of empty promises which he dismissed as unimportant upon breaking them.  And so many things were said that were romantic-sounding, which my friends and family believed were words to keep me attached so I would not leave.  On one hand he would tell me that we were not going to get back together, and on another he would tell me how special I was and how he missed me so much, and the prospect of seeing me made him so excited that his heart was beating out of his chest (or some similar wording).  Two different messages, I was getting, and it was obvious which one I was going to listen to.  Manipulation still happened.

So all that he claimed he wanted to stop doing when we were together he continued to do after he broke up with me.  Only now he had less of a reason to care about my mental and physical state.  Even though he eventually recognized what he was doing to me while we were together, he apparently forgot everything by the end of that breakup conversation.

As I became more and more of a burden, wanting to talk about my feelings - which he said he would always listen to, no matter what - he became less available, and very impatient.  Which is why I constantly doubted my worth and my importance.  Well...one of the reasons, anyway, since I always did that even without his help.  He just continued to exacerbate an already existing problem.

Maybe I am also seriously thinking about all this again because of information I found, and what that all means.


(...There probably will be more on this, because I'm a loser.)