Oh you feel really shit all day? What have you eaten?? Nothing???? Makes sense. I need structure, but I'm so bad at imposing structure on myself 😭

 

Like a fool, like an absolute utter idiot, I did the stupidest thing anyone can do. I let myself have hope.

These last couple days I keep kicking myself for acting like such a simpering dog. I've been such a pathetic mutt, eager to roll over and please the person that (unknowingly) holds my leash in their hands. I don't even mean to be so attentive, but the desperation reeks off of me. For these last couple nights, I keep waiting for them to fall asleep first so I can say my piece and have it off my shoulders, but I keep falling asleep first and it's frustrating as all hell. And then, AND THEN, like a desperate stray looking for warmth, I started our nightly phone calls by calling it "darling". Who the fuck am I? "Darling"??? Why did I say that?? Why did I enjoy saying that?? Why do my cheeks grow warm and my smile grow wide whenever I get to pick up the phone and talk to "my darling". Eugh, I hate myself.

I have to keep reminding myself of the true nature of our relationship. We are not together. We are not dating. They don't love me the way I love them. You know this. You knew what you were getting into. You can't be mourning the relationship you never had. Stop acting so pathetic and grow the hell up. Maybe if I keep repeating it enough, I'll truly believe it. And I did. Briefly. For about a day.

But of course I can't be spared, can I? No no, a cruel and malovelent god is twisting the knife as we speak. Because then they said it back. "Oh, goodnight, darling," and the way I did a double take. I stood there in shock for a moment before I asked it to repeat that. The way I melted onto my bathroom floor giggling as I held my phone. My heart lept and for just a moment, I let a ray of hope into my heart. Maybe? Just maybe there's a chance...? But we all know how this goes, don't we?

"We sound like those friends who get mistaken for couples hahaha".

Oh. Right. And just like that, reality comes crashing down on me, not even letting me savour the moment. Like a bucket of ice water dumped on my head, the truth of my situation comes to destroy any hope I had left. Why do I open myself to hurt like this when I know the outcome? The rational part of my brain keeps telling me the solution: "Stop flirting and spending so much time with this person if you know it'll only hurt you in the long run." But my heart can't help but laugh at that suggestion. Sure, I know what I should do, but I know in my heart-of-hearts that I'd be lying to myself if I said that didn't sound like hell.

I love talking to her. I love falling asleep to the sound of their voice every night. I love spending sunny days lounged comfortably across its lap as we sit with our friends in the park. I can't give that all up. It pains me to even think about how all of this can be gone the moment she deems it too much. I'm terrified of that day. And yet, I crave more. I'm a greedy greedy dog, hungry for all the affection and attention this one person can give me. But we are not together. This is not what we are. This is not what I agreed to.

But like a fool, I allowed myself to hope.
 

 

I want to be able to kiss you more.

I want to be able to display affection without imploding from humiliation. I'm so bad at communicating that I enjoy your company without being cringe or overly sexual. I want to be able to just hold your hand or lean against you. I want to touch you, but I don't know how much contact I'm allowed. Every brush against your skin feels like I've been burned, the immediate revulsion to my own feelings feels like a force down against my heart. I recoil from others' touch not from disgust, but some deep-rooted shame about wanting. Wanting touch. Wanting connection. Wanting more.
 

This desperate need for more sickens me. I feel greedy, already having taken so much from you. You're so kind and considerate to me, but I fear your tolerance will not last. Everytime I speak to you over the phone or awkwardly gauge your approval, I feel your patience grows thinner. I know it's irrational, but I fear your weariness of me will only grow. For some fucked up reason in my head, if I limit our interactions then I'll have more time with you before you grow tired of me, even if it means avoiding you when I want to see you. 
 

I am not an interesting person. I have a strange sense of humour and my personality is off-putting. Worst of all, I'm a bundle of insecurities and emotions shambling around in the rough shape of a man with minimal filter. I'm clingy and desperate for approval — All traits that I despise. I try to hide my feelings behind humour and sardony, but my defences are paper thin. I reek of desperation. I feel like my desires are barely restrained under my skin, clawing through my mouth at the most inopportune times. I don't know how you put up with me. 

You've been far kinder to me than you needed, so much so that I distrust it. I want to keep you at an arm's length so there's no chance I get hurt. Cliché, I know, but simultaneously I want to drag you close to me and just embrace you. My own affection disgusts me and I'm trying to get over it, but I don't know how long it's going to take.

Please be patient with me for just a little bit longer.