There might be lots to worry and wonder about another day, but for now...
I tried so hard to be his friend and he wanted to get to attraction to please me, but I felt love and he felt friendship. I could comb the story for clues and reassurances, but.
We liked being around each other. There was some kind of spark. We had a great date and he didn't want to kiss me.
I could see it as tragic or damning or proof that I'm unkissable, but what happened was just...dating. It hurts worse because we genuinely liked and got to know each other, but still, it's as simple as:
Not a match.
All this week I've been in a hum of self-care, touching base with my friends and my breaths and my Twelve Steps. My OCD quieted almost immediately after we said goodbye.
The Monday after the date, in that doomed and meltdowny but ultimately helpful conversation, I did tell him I love him, and I'm glad. People should know when they're loved. Now, I'm trying my best to love myself.
I feel anger and shame at myself for being so openhearted, but I hope someday I won't. I remember how much I used to value my wholeheartedness, and I would like to value it again. I would like to treat my heart like it's worthy of healthy, happy love. Not like it deserves this:
It's not post-blue-box Mulholland Drive over here, I probably won't be disappeared in a floof of blue smoke. It's just sad. I'm afraid to really grieve because what if the grief is forever? What if I can never get free of the sadness because he is RIGHT THERE all the time? I guess I can't know how long the pain will last, but it's better to feel it than keep hurting myself. Better to cry than to live in a fantasy.
Thanks for reading me through this, friends. I know-
