Instead of going to the Halloween party with the department tonight, I ended up staying home because I was hit with this wave of terrible sadness and a desire to do absolutely nothing.  Everyone was getting ready and just watching them made me tired; getting up and getting in my cosplay just felt like the most exhausting thing.  And I didn't eat at all until around 8 today, which probably was a mistake.  But I'm just feeling really down and sad and I want to go home again but I can't. 

I have been enjoying talking with friend S; he and I have still been going back and forth and it has been really good for me, I think.  Too bad I wasn't closer to Philly; he and I could have hung out or something but...oh well.  I told him that the next time I'm in the area, I will hit him up so we could chill and stuff.  

I said I was going to talk about this...so here we go I guess. 

The other day, I started thinking about the past.  Specifically, past relationship.  I don't know why I was, maybe just because I've been down lately and lonely but also with a desire to not talk to anyone.  So my mind returns to the time where I had someone there to just hold me and stuff when I was sad and it would make me feel at least a little bit better.  

But as I was thinking that, I got somewhat angry with myself.  Because those embraces were false, or at least potentially so.  I wouldn't be able to tell exactly when his ~feelings~ started to change, so I just question it all.  From the very beginning until the very end.  I was never meant to be with him that long; he pretty much said that himself.  That we were just together for too long, as if that was what is supposed to happen, or at least it was supposed to happen with us.  Why he stayed as long as he did in the end, I don't know.  It is obvious that by how fast he got with other people how much he did not want to be with me or even care for me anymore.  

And again, the fact that he has someone who is probably awesome thinking that he is the best fucking person and loves him and lives with him and probably lets him do whatever he wants...it just angers me.  In general.  Perhaps it isn't fair for me to be angry, but at the same time I find it unjust that he gets to have that, as I've said in the past on more than a few occasions. 

But to return to past memories, I started just thinking of what should be good times.  Our interpretative dancing on a street in London, our time killing it on the adventure course in the Adirondacks, our Lord of the Rings marathon, doing stupid things like cold seat and me singing stupid rhyming songs, having dumbass nicknames, baking cookies, and other things.  I wanted, in the moment I was in, to at least have something from the past that was good.  

The problem...is that all of these supposedly good memories are filled with doubts and questions and suspicions.  Every time he said how much he loved and cared about me, I ask myself if he was lying, and tell myself that he probably was.  I wonder when he started really thinking about being with other people, even as he told me he only ever wanted to be with me.  All those memories have been tainted with this dark cloud of my own hate and sadness, and it unfortunately cannot go away.  Even the ones from the beginning of the relationship I look back on now with suspicion, and I now see the manipulation that went on as clear as day.  Something that I was blind to in the past. 

Really, this lack of good memories should make me sad.  And in a way, I suppose it does.  I've yet to mentally recover from his betrayal and our falling out; the environment of grad school makes that something that is extremely difficult for me to do, which is why I'm still piecing myself back together.  But even as I get "better," I'm not really.  I still want to be around few people, and I still don't trust anyone enough to get close to them in that way again.  It was too painful.  It hurt too much.  So much, that it still affects me, whereas he has had three other women love him and be with him since me, and one has moved across country to be with him.  

I've convinced myself he doesn't care.  That he never really did.  That he was always selfish, and once he got bored with me, he took off.  For some reason, telling myself he never cared - while once destroying me - has given me more comfort.  I suppose it fueled my anger, but it also was...more logical.  Everything that happened makes more sense if he didn't care.  And I know I should not always look for the logical answer, especially with emotions, but...I couldn't help it.  It made sense. 

And thus, I return to my main point: all my memories of him and our past together are tainted.  And so, I have no good ones. 

In a way, it makes me sad.  But in another way, I don't really care.