That’s what I determined after every word I typed met my tearful gaze. I don’t want to confuse him if he reads it. I don’t want him to think I want to get back together. But admitting you miss someone can have a lot of connotations. Pairing that with admitting you were wrong about something only muddies the waters further.
I left the post in my drafts. Staring up at the ceiling I contemplated. Why was I so afraid? What would it hurt to post a personal failure? Especially one that pertained to a break up? If I needed to get it off my chest what harm would it do to me? None. I could only grow from it.
Part of me was still nervous though, while also combined with angry. Ironically it wasn’t until after we broke up he started reading my blog. Like he was trying to keep tabs on me. Sneaking. He stopped talking to me after I posted one particular post, and texted me to tell me so. Which was hard, because I had assumed we were going to try the whole friendship thing. I was really trying too, that is until things got super complicated.
“You realize he has been working his way up to hating you to get over you. Most guys can’t find another way once they’re in love. They can’t be friends. They can only hate you to forget you.” One of my guy friends told me. I wasn’t sure that was true until my ex texted me that he was deleting my number. Then again, the post I had written had come at a stressful time in my life, and he happened to want to get back together at the most inappropriate point of that several week long series of unfortunate events. I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt with his terrible timing, but it doesn’t change the fact that I now find myself fearful of posting things. I’m untrusting of him. Fearful he is waiting for another reason to hate me.
What difference does it make anyway? I already broke his heart. Not sure I can break it any more than it is already broken. Besides, it isn’t even about him. He’s mentioned, yes, but it’s more about me. My realizations and failures as a human being, because I’m not perfect. Nor do I pretend to be.
I suppose the reason I’m afraid to post it is because if I do then he not only will read it, but it will mean actually having to do something about my own realization. If I keep it inside I can ignore it. I can pretend that it isn’t there, and maybe I will work on it quietly within myself. But if I post it, not only will people know, but he will, and it leaves another opportunity for vulnerability. A place where someone can hurt me.
Admittedly I have been hurt enough over this late relationship. Hurt that it didn’t work. Hurt that he wouldn’t keep boundaries and tried to get back with me when I was hurting from other things. Hurt because I didn’t really feel listened to. Hurt when he told me he was deleting my number, when he pushed so hard for us to stay friends. Hurt that I thought we could have a friendship, thinking things could be different. Hurt by my own belief that it could be.
Now I just want to get over it and move on. To not have to think about things. I have the kind of mind that has a hard time turning off and wants to learn from the situations I have experienced. So I torture myself thinking things to death, which was why I had gotten myself into that mess in the first place.
I don’t know if I will post what I wrote last night. I haven’t decided. I suppose I will have to pull myself together first. Think this one to death too.