Archives for posts with tag: sad

I broke up with my girlfriend two days ago. We got in a heated argument. I felt unimportant and not given enough attention. I just felt like I wasn’t the priority. And even though I know in a way it was definitely the “right thing” to do considering the circumstances, it’s really hard to let go. 

When I think about it, I’m not enduring much physical pain. I remember one of the first times I thought I was in love and I went through this feeling of emptiness in my heart. It really felt like someone had ripped my heart out and left a piece of black, cold, coal in its place. Has anyone else felt that? Well…now I wonder…this time the love was much more mutual. And yet, now that we are broken up it feels surreal. I keep questioning if it means that breaking up gets easier, or if the past love I let go of was the “real thing” (even though I know it was real but not as mutually meaningful), OR if my heart isn’t aching because “it’s really not over yet because love finds a way”??? There are just too many options.

 

Recently I went to my mom’s friend’s house. They’re relationship psychologists and own a counseling retreat on weekends. I read their brochure and I thought it was really interesting. It made me question…what love really is. And how do we know when we should let go, hold on, or just make it work? I’m only 20 but when I was younger I had love much more sorted out than I do now. What does this all mean? I look at my journal entry from last night and all it says : I DON’T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS

People say that if you have something then when it’s gone you feel it and you know it. I don’t feel anything. I’m stuck in limbo, feeling lost but not lost. I know I love her but I don’t know what to do. I don’t have that motivation kicking me, telling me to go for it. Instead I’m sitting here, thinking of her all the time…and hoping she’d be the one to go after me. I think that’s what’s confusing about lesbian relationships. At least in heterosexual relationships, because of media, we think “the guy has to do the running after us”….but what happens when you’re with a girl and you are a girl? Do I really have to put on my “man pants” and go get her? I know. I really am a hypocrite because I hate this idea that guys are supposed to do everything to make it up to the girl, but that’s how I feel right now. I want my girlfriend–who likes to actually wear the pants (no really, pants), to come after me and to realize everything she’s done.

 

Okay, so you’re probably wondering what happened now. And well, if you’ve read my COLD TURKEY journal then it’s something similar. She smokes and likes to party. And although I like to party, I really can’t stand smoking. But anyway– we were getting close to school break, which means we wouldn’t see each other for a little over a month. She kept saying how we needed to spend time together, but she would go out with her friends to smoke and take a long time, or end up making plans where she would have to leave. When she’d get back, I wouldn’t be in the lovey mode, I’d be more in the “oh you’re back. How…interesting” attitude. On top of that I can’t be affectionate when I smell cigarette smoke. I really hate it. It reminds me of bad memories with my father. Anyway, I told her that I didn’t want to be too close to her when she smells like that because the smell makes me nauseous and cranky. She said “Okay…I won’t do it any more…” and then she added, “I won’t be close to you after I smoke”…. Now, of course I thought she was going to do the “right thing” and say she wouldn’t smoke as often or try to quit you know?–because she’s been promising to try to quit for the past year. When I heard her say she’d stay away from me after smoking, I think my face literally dropped with disbelief. 

In my mind it all registered like this: She’d rather smoke her cigs and you know everything else she does, rather than be with me sober…She used to be happy with me sober. I haven’t nagged her about quitting anything for so long (months), and yet she just keeps doing more and more instead of actually stopping. So, I tried all approaches– the “stop nagging her” approach because maybe she’d appreciate that and not want to smoke, and then I tried the saying “it’s okay, you can smoke” so that she’d be so happy she’d think of stopping on her own. I even tried the “You have to stop because it bothers me” and the “If you don’t quit we can’t be together”….yeah none of those worked. So it came down to the fact she never can quit even if she wants. 

In my mind I feel unimportant and taken for granted because I’ve dealt with her drug/smoking/drinking habits for almost two years now and nothing pays off. I get no credit for trying to suck up my pride and let her have fun doing it even though it hurts me and makes me feel disrespected. I know that what she does has nothing to do with me, and that she does it just because that’s how she identifies herself, and that’s also what her and her group of friends do…if they didn’t they probably wouldn’t hang out because really all they ever do is talk about drugs, complain about the school and people, or smoke and drink. So really? I don’t know what they’d do to maintain their friendship. Then from this idea, it has me worried that if she ever did quit, she’d just resent me. So…yeah. 

Okay so back to the story of my long ex-girlfriend rant. So…

I told her that my friend invited us to another one of her house parties. My girlfriend (ex) was really into going, but mainly to get fucked up–she has her status to maintain. Last time we went, I had a great time. But we really didn’t act like we were dating. I was the only one trying to be close to her and show her affection here and there. But besides that she didn’t want to kiss me or really hold me. She just made some slight attempts at having me sit near her, but nothing about us screamed “we are in a relationship.” So…I hate to say it, but because I was slightly sad from that, I kind of flirted with this other girl at the party. She was really stupid, and she admitted she knew nothing. And when she got drunk, she was even more stupid. But she was hot and I guess that was enough. So I talked to her a lot, besides from playing drinking games with people. I had a good time because it just felt like my girlfriend and I were only best friends. However, if I’m going to date someone, I would like to have security knowing we are together you know? Is it so wrong to ask her to kiss me in front of some guys so they know we’re together?

Well, I told her I didn’t want to go to the next party my friend was throwing, because I was leaving for winter break and wouldn’t have time to see my girlfriend. I reminded my girlfriend that she was the one who was complaining we didn’t have much time, so I wanted to spend that night with her instead of a group of people where everyone would be fucked up. You know, I wanted it to be romantic. And it’s hard for me wanting to kiss a mouth full of smoke. 

In the end she called up a girl who I thought was my friend, and they spoke behind my back and went to the party. Before they went to the party, they picked up drugs in town. Yepp, and guess what. No one told me about this.

As you can see, I was really upset. So I moved all of my things out of our room and moved to my own room. After the party she didn’t knock on my door or try to talk to me at all. People told me she looks a little sad when they see her, but that’s all I know. 

I guess I also forgot to mention that before she said she was leaving, I felt really hurt and told her we need to not talk any more because I couldn’t handle it any more. I really went on about how it didn’t feel like we were together and how she’d never change and quit, and that it hurt me too much so I wanted out of our relationship…

 

I think from what I said to her that was probably the reason she went to the party and didn’t tell me, regardless that she was going to the party with or without me. But yeah.

We have issues. I know she isn’t happy with me much any more. It goes both ways. Maybe I’m too stuck in limbo right now to see the truth or to have good perspective on everything that happened because it happened fast. I haven’t talked to her since. I keep thinking of texting her and whenever my phone goes off my heart jumps thinking maybe it’s her saying she loves me and misses me. But…I know it’s not her. Hasn’t been her. 

I wish I could stay in a cave and play the victim just a little longer. I hate thinking how it’s also partially my fault we didn’t work out.

The spark in our kisses has long been gone. But I only can recall them with sparks.

I don’t want sex or anything. I just miss her…her presence. I miss her loyalty. I miss her actually being happy with me and only me. Whenever I run back to her, I keep realizing I’m being slapped in the face. I need to stop putting myself in a position where I’m vulnerable. In the end I just couldn’t keep her happy enough. I wasn’t good enough for her. 

I thought when people were really in love, not only did they love each other for their differences, but they were willing to change for one another. Now, I’m not saying everyone should change. But when you love one another and have been compromising, well…after I have been compromising with her drugs/smoking/drinking for such a long time, why is it wrong to expect that she’ll put that stuff aside for me ?

Okay…enough babbling. Thanks wordpress. I feel slightly better.

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Names have been changed to secure privacy to individual(s)*

I fell asleep early, it must have been about 9 or 10pm and it was a Sunday. I woke up because my phone was ringing and it was close to 4 in the morning. My friend, Niro, needed a place to crash. I hadn’t heard from him since Friday. I slumped out of bed, went to the darkened living room and pulled the large cushion off of the couch and put it on my small bedroom floor.
My room is small but a decent sized walk in closet if you will. It fits my single bed, a simple wooden dresser, a mirror on the wall, a tall wardrobe, and a desk that sits beneath the large window that faces the street lamp at night time. Two chairs are crammed in this tiny room as well. One against the wall and another half seated inside the desk.
This room looks even smaller with the couch cushion in the walkway area that separates my bed from my dresser, but at least my room feels like home.
I quickly made Niro’s bed on the floor, placing the sheet over the cushion. It floated in the air a bit and landed successfully. I pulled a matching pillow off of my bed and set my stuffed animal on the pillow. I still wasn’t sure why I bought the stuffed animal five weeks ago. I keep hearing stuffed animals are not for my age group, but it was cute and looked as lonely as I had. So, I did the only logical thing. I bought him off the shelf and took him home.
My room is temporary and does not belong to me. But until this Saturday, July 14th, it is all mine. Then I will be off to the United States and saying goodbye to Europe for a while.

I opened the window and peak out of the shutters. I hear Niro’s footsteps before I see his body in his striped shirt come closer on the stone sidewalk. I called down “hello” and I buzzed him in and left the front door to the apartment open so I could sit on my bed until he made it up the stairs.
Soon he was in the apartment, walking quietly so not to wake up my housemates. He came into my room and saw the bed made for him. He said something along the lines of “I’m not going to say this a lot, but I love you right now.”
Niro is an interesting guy. He is very serious about friendships and relationships that are romantic. He never says “I love you” even jokingly as friends, unless maybe you’ve known him for years and you eventually become his best friend. We just met almost three weeks ago but to me, we were already good friends. I am personally used to saying “I love you” to people who I think of as good friends/family. Even though I’d tell him those words when we’d say goodbye or in random moments, he would never return the words. Never did it bother me because I knew he was different like that.
It wasn’t until this night on Sunday that it made me cry. Not because he wouldn’t say I love you, because I hadn’t even said those words to him. But because of what he talked about with me.

We were laying in my room having a normal talk. We caught up about his weekend on the country side and his amazing time with friends and meeting new people. He told me I should have been there and would have loved it. I knew I probably would have, but at the same time I was happy with my laid back weekend, visiting Venezia and Roma. I had been to Roma before but never scampered outside of RomaTermini…I sat in the station waiting for my next train. Finally I had a chance and the time to visit these well known places. But, back to the story.
Niro said he found the girl of his dreams that weekend. He said he just knew she would be the one, one day.
It made me happy to hear.

Then at some point, the conversation changed and took an odd turn. He said he didn’t want me to take it the wrong way, but said I shouldn’t say “I love you” so much. Apparently, I say it too soon to people I meet.
I understood where he was coming from, but at the same time I felt misunderstood by far.

He said he was talking with his friends, one in particular who I thought I knew pretty well. We all had joked and laughed about things, we even stayed up until six in the morning wandering the streets of Firenze. We saw the sun come out and shed a gentle light on the buildings and old palaces. In that moment I remember feeling infinite. I thought how life is spontaneous, and in one night you can meet a bunch of random people and have the best time of your life with no limitations.
Well, after hearing Niro say that I should contain myself, I felt like my memories were being shifted. As if the way I remembered these moments, had suddenly meant something different. It was too much for me to handle.

I can’t explain what I want to say. You might be lost in my story. I’m even lost in my story. It didn’t happen too long ago, but it already feels like a dream that has liquified itself. I can’t make out anything clear. I just have abstract feelings and colors.
Last night as I walked back home from a Vegan restaurant, with my friend who is vegan– I was about to make my normal route home to my apartment when I realized I needed to think.
I chose a stone bench that sat facing near Santa Maria del Fiori, also known as the Duomo in Firenze. It’s a large building made of marble and some stone, colors include green and white…beautiful work. Google it!
The sky was a brilliant cobalt blue, the air was fresh and luke warm. A highlight of color lifted the blue shades around the large church building. At first I sat on the edge of the bench, talking quietly with myself. I had just passed a touring couple in front of the church on the ground. A woman lay on her back and her husband was on top of her. They kissed passionately and then got up took a picture of her and laughed. I had tried to take out my camera during their make out scene, but I was too slow. That moment of whitnessing their PDA, made me think of how love does “ballsy” things : ) Excuse this little detour story if you are offended by PDAs, I was in the mood where it was cute to see a couple who was married be so in love after time has passed.
I shoved this scene out of my mind as I spoke, trying to figure out what love was with words.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around Niro’s idea of how love had to be…it was as if he wanted it to be something that had to be well planned out, well thought about. It made no sense because just before he had said he just knew he was going to be with this girl who he had never met before, and yet he holds onto this strict feeling of waiting to say “I love you” even to friends.

I suppose I had changed a lot. (Side note…I will have to get a tattoo of a mosquito because I have met the toughest mosquito right now. –okay I lied. I’ve known him for a week. I’m calling him Magician. He bites me every where, all the time. He only shows himself at night time for supper. He flies fast, he disappears and reappears. I’ve never not been able to kill a mosquito. I applaud this little bastard.)

LOVE 
I grew up thinking people said “I love you” too much that it lost its meaning, I used to think that no one really understood it.  But now I think I was backwards then.
When I was little I only said I loved one person until I was twelve years old. After that love became more of an open word but always with meaning. I understand how different languages and cultures change love. In Italian we have words that mean I LOVE YOU to only family, or to your romantic partner. In the US, we have the one word “Love” that goes to all.

As I grew up, and I still am, I find that life could end at any moment. We all know death is inevitable. So why is it wrong to go around saying “I love you”!? What’s wrong with telling a stranger you appreciate their existence?

I think the truth is that we are all in different chapters of our lives. One day we’ll all meet at the same point, but till then we have our own views on how to love and feel.

Back Ground: How Niro and I became ‘friends’
I was in the square of Santo Spirito with my friend Mini and some locals. I was introduced to Niro through the friends I had who were locals to the town. Right away I sat on the curb and we were very alive and jumpy. We acted as if we knew each other for years. He immediately said we could be good friends, even best friends. We walked with people to a club down the road. I invited him to come to Cortona with me the next day even though I had just met him. He said he’d call me the next day. He did, and there he was, getting off the bus at Cortona after the first night we met. We spent the weekend together in a sweet bed and breakfast, hiked around the town. We didn’t talk too much about anything deep. It was polite conversation. Every since we hang out every so often and have a good time.