Life, Love, Sex

Things Fall Apart

I saw today’s XKCD and just had to post it.

I wonder if the people who do this comic read my blog?

I Heart Lily Allen

Sleepy Writing

I wish I had more energy to write. I’m just finishing up with my obsession over the break up with Jefferson. Once I’m in France I really want to do my best to not give this any thought. I’m going an ocean away- I want all this to stay in NJ.

But for now, I want to indulge.

6 months ago, when every thing with Diva started, and the fights with Jefferson began, I started writing in a friend’s only LJ.

I half want to post what I wrote.

I was so distraught with everything that was going on. I was so out of control- I literally did not feel in control of my emotions and thoughts and behaviors and I felt so powerless to stop (acting out against D.). And it just snowballed. It kept getting worse. And it changed Jefferson and my’s relationship from there on out.

I didn’t get out of bed the weekend we had our first huge fight in February. I cried and cried because I thought I’d lost him forever. I nearly threw up from crying to hard.

I’d go back and do what I could to stop myself. I don’t feel sorry for what I’ve said to D. because of her, but because of how it’s affected me, and how it changed my relationship with Jefferson. Fuck, it changed me too.

This isn’t me. This hateful, vindictive person. I never used to be like this. And I certainly don’t want to remain like this.

I think going away will be good for me. I want it to be good for me. I need to break some of these habits.

I’m going to try really hard to not think, let alone write, about this while I’m in France. I wish I could just turn my brain off and make it easy.

I’m really, really sorry this all happened. And how it happened.

Coming Clean

Some thing’s been driving me nuts and I think life will be much better if I just spill the whole truth.

I hate Diva.  With a passion.  Like nobody’s business.  And I’m insanely jealous of what she now has with Jefferson.

And I’ve been a complete bitch to her these past 6 months or so.

I’ve left countless nasty comments on her blog (generally anonymously) over the months and even sent a nasty e-mail (which, actually if it hadn’t been so mean would have been hilarious).

I guess I never admitted to anything I’ve done because I hoped for plausible deniablity.

I’ll even cop to trying to get access to her secret blog by creating a fake e-mail account and trying to pass myself off as a sympathetic blog reader.  Meh, I was curious.  Didn’t work though.  And wow did she say some nasty things about me and my relationship with Jefferson (that were also completely untrue).   (Even though it wasn’t true, it’s what put me in my bad mood yesterday.)

I don’t actually want to keep doing it.  I don’t want to be trapped in my hatred for her.  Especially since I’m doing my best to move on from all things Jefferson.  I also don’t want to keep doing it because I know she loves it and loves the drama and feeding into that completely negates why I’m being a bitch to her in the first place!

This is like step 1.  We’ll see if I need additional steps.

My acting out against her is basically what killed my relationship with Jefferson.  Contrary to some people’s beliefs, I don’t actually blame her for the end of my relationship.  And I know now that my anger toward her lately (because I cooled off significantly for awhile there) is misdirected (hence my misdirect post).  She was a symptom of my anger towards Jefferson for treating me like crap.

If he could have been honest with me about the nature of his relationship with her, maybe I wouldn’t be writing this today.

If he could have maintained his relationship with me then maybe I wouldn’t have been so jealous and felt so driven to act out.

If he could have taken even the most remote amount of responsibility for his any of his actions then maybe I would be cutting him out of my life, for good, right now.

But right, that’s a bit of a tangent.

So there it is all out there- I can be a bitch when I want to be (though my bark is worse than my bite admittedly).  And I chose to be a bitch to someone who seemingly had done nothing to me.  And I won’t even be apologizing for it.

I’ve never claimed to be perfect.  And I’ve never claimed to be oh-so-mature (if anything I hated it because it meant people expected me to be so grown up all the time.  I think people forget I’m only 22).

My own childish actions were the major cause for my relationship with Jefferson to disintegrate.  And I don’t need to hide the fact- from me or from anyone else.

It’s a fresh start for me from here on out.

Delete

I’ve been busy and brave removing the remnants of Jefferson from my life.

I’ve deleted all his e-mails and set a filter for any new ones to be sent straight to the trash.

Next is my phone and all the text messages (including the “I Love You’s” and such) and removing his number from my phone.

Plus I took him off my feed reader so I don’t have to see if he writes something about me (even though I’ve asked him not to).

I’ll probably be debating for awhile on pictures.

This is good. It feels good. I feel freer.

I never thought I’d actually be happy to have him out of my life. Funny how life changes.

Redirect

I had a small little break through this weekend. Jocasta helped me realized that my anger toward the she-devil was really misdirected. My problem isn’t really with her, she’s just a symptom of my problem with Jefferson. It makes sense right? I dunno, but that realization helped me let go of some steam. I feel less like I have this pent up hatred toward her. No, now I’m properly directing it to Jefferson.

Quietly though. I really have no urge to lash out at him like I did last year. It’s not even worth the energy.

But I’m still angry at him. I cried a few tears yesterday in the car, but just a few as he’s not worth my tears anymore.

I pissed over what we’ve become. We hate each other now. This is never what I would have wanted. I always wanted to imagine us being friends for a very long time.

I hate what I had to go through in the relationship. I hate that everything was always by his rules, on his terms. And if I didn’t like it, well, I knew going into it what to expect. And how having issues with the relationship was “drama.”

I hate him for making me believe he loved me. For making me think that I was actually special. That we were special.

I mean we were, weren’t we? We were Avah and Jefferson. We had something. I felt it; I saw it. It wasn’t all a lie. But it sure doesn’t feel that way now. It’s like we never had anything good.

I mean, 2 years into the relationship and he can’t tell me he loves me on his own? What the fuck is that?? I can’t deal with that shit. I’m not wasting my youth try to pull some kind of emotion from an old man.

(By the way, Gin and Tonics are yummy.)

I loved him. God I loved him so much. He was so beautiful to me. Once upon a time I only wished the best for him and would have gone completely out of my way to help him achieve it.

I am oh so thankful for this trip to France next week. My hatred for Jefferson is bleeding into all my other relationships and views on life. I don’t need that.

Didn’t he love me? Didn’t he care about me? Why wasn’t I special to him? Why wasn’t I ever enough?

Look at me doing this- doubting myself. I don’t want to be like this.

I don’t want to hate him. I don’t want him to hate me. And I don’t want to hate myself.

I can’t wait until this is all over. I don’t even know how long this is going to take. Oy, I don’t want to think about it.

Ugh, I’m so tired. I need to sleep.

I’m actually incredibly numb over this. I can barely feel anything. I say I’m pissed and angry and fed up, but really all it feels like is a blanket funk. I just don’t have it in me to be upset anymore.

I’m going to be numb while sleeping now.

Ferklempt

This break-up with Jefferson has me all knotted up inside.

It’s not that I don’t think it’s the right thing. I think it’s right so much more than ever before. I just can’t live with the way he lives his life, or who he is, or how we are together anymore.

I’m feeling bad about how it all came about though.

Chicago was a nice time. It wasn’t spectacular. But it was nice. I knew before we left that it was over. But like hell I wasn’t going to enjoy this trip I’d been planning for 6 months. I was sweet and affectionate though. Because I enjoy being so.

And then he came to my orgy, where I practically ignored him. I think he thinks I was jealous over him playing with Adam’s girlfriend, Rachel. I’m not sure exactly, but he mentioned something about orgy drama. There was no orgy drama. I was concerned with him beating up on her actually since he was drunk off his ass, as usual. No, no orgy drama. Actually I was ignoring him because he spent the previous night with my most hated of enemies. And it takes multiple showers to get the stench of whore off oneself.

But when I e-mailed him last week and told him that I felt I’d out grown him and wasn’t going to pursue seeing him because he no longer had anything I wanted, I think it came a little out of left field for him. Which probably led to the douchebag twitter of his. “ I’m told that someone won’t continue seeing me because I drink and have sex with another woman. Please refer to manual, page one.”

That’s not what I want to wake up to.

So I laid out some truth. I hate his drinking; I hated how his relationship with that whore was taking precedence over ours; I hated how I felt stunted in our relationship. He was a man that hasn’t changed since the day his ex kicked him out 4 years ago.

But I told him I wasn’t breaking up with him. I just wasn’t going to initiate getting together, but if he wanted to see me then I would find time.

So we made a date together to just hang out before my weekly therapy appointment on Wednesday. We were meeting in the park at noon, barring rainy weather or another heat wave.

Well, after coming back from Boston on Tuesday, I went straight to Callie’s and spent the night with her, so I didn’t wake up very quickly after he sent me an e-mail confirming a time. I e-mailed him when I woke up to confirm noon; and then I twittered. And that’s where it all went down hill.

I wrote how nice a day it was and hoped some schmuck wouldn’t ruin it. Not any schmuck in particular.

Well, Jefferson took him to be the schmuck in question and canceled our get together. Leaving me stranded in NYC. Well, he certainly became some schmuck and instantly ruined my day.

I guess it was good that I went straight to therapy. Because even though I was a little dramatic, in actuality, it was barely nothing.

I mean, I blogged (see: Purge), but please, that’s nothing. Bugged him though. And I’m locking my posts and twitters for the time being because I just want him out of my life for a little bit.
I did call him trash. And told him it was definitely over.

I wasn’t hurt by what he did; and I wasn’t disappointed I didn’t get to see him. I was annoyed that I was inconvenienced. I was annoyed that he continued to try and keep control of the relationship- dictating exactly when I would see him and also policing my behavior. Yet at the same time holding me to a double standard. He could twitter something rude about me, but I couldn’t say whatever I wanted (even if the twitter had been about him).

Nuh uh. That doesn’t fly for me anymore.

But I am upset how it all went down. I mean I can’t know for sure, but I’m feeling like perhaps he’s confused and/or hurt. (If it’s possible to be hurt since he has the emotional range of a rock.) I offered to explain why this break-up is really quite necessary. He said he was too busy.

Well ok then.

I have deleted our e-mails. They’ll sit in the trash for the next 30 days, but I don’t think I’ll be recovering them. It’s amazing how that one little step can take a load off your shoulders.

So yeah, I feel remorse that it had to end on a sour note. And I guess I’m sorry if I hurt him. That wasn’t my intention (this time). I did kind of want him to just open his eyes and see what was so obvious. About himself; and us.

He should be more used to being dumped. Shouldn’t he? And shouldn’t I be used to breaking up with men? (It’s what I do.)

I don’t think I’m really allowed to concern myself with his well-being as the dumper.

Any further contact I would make would only be to assuage my own guilt, but probably would only end up causing more drama (Jefferson is a major drama queen (in total denial about it)).

So, the best I can do is write locked posts about being sorry for it all.

And holy crap it’s past 4am.

Purge

I think it’s time to purge the sludge from my life.

When I broke up with my ex, Casi, I erased all our e-mails and IMs and pictures and it was so liberating, and even though it was hard, I’m glad I did it. It makes getting over someone a lot easier because it’s a lot harder to reminisce about the “good ole days.”

I think I need to take that step with Jefferson. It’s a little more intense erasing 2 years of history as opposed to 3 months, but it’s for the best. If only if it were a simple process to pluck him from the blog.

3rd break-ups stick. I swear.

Scar- by Missy Higgins

He left a card, a bar of soap and a scrubbing brush next to a note,
That said “use these down to your bones”.
And before I knew I had shiny skin and it felt easy being clean like him,
I thought “this one knows better than I do”

A triangle trying to squeeze through a circle
He tried to cut me so I’d fit

And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?
Doesn’t that make you shiver; the way things could’ve gone?
And doesn’t it feel peculiar that everyone wants a little more. So that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?

So the next one came with a bag of treats,
She smelled like sugar and spoke like the sea
She told me don’t, trust them trust me.
Then she pulled at my stitches one by one,
Looked at my insides clicking her tongue,

And said “This will all have to come undone”.

A triangle trying to squeeze through a circle,
She tried to blunt me so I’d fit.

And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?
Doesn’t that make you shiver; the way things could have gone?
And doesn’t it feel peculiar, that everyone wants a little more?
So that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?

I think I realised just in time, about my old self was hard to find.
You can bathe me in your finest wine but I’ll never give you mine.
‘Cos I’m a little bit tired of fearing that I’ll be the bad fruit nobody
buys,
Tell me, did you think we’d all dream the same?

And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?
Doesn’t that make you shiver; the way things could have gone?
And doesn’t it feel peculiar that everyone wants a little more?
so that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?
could you leave me with a scar? ah-ah-ah.