What the hell. It’s just another stupid fight. “IT’S NORMAL!”, or so he keeps telling me. He wrapped his arms around me, rested his chin on my shoulder and even sweetly said, “Sorry.” He begged me not to go my friend’s birthday thing. He’s not comfortable with me being with other guys. Or as he regularly puts it, “Go fuck off and fuck anyone you want, you fucking slut.”
He says he’s sorry. He even asks me how to accept the fact that we have to sometimes be with other people. “Do you really have to go?”, he pleads. I told him nicely to please not ask me to stay. I have been turning these people down 9 out of 10 times for the past three years. And just like that, the switch flips. “Don’t ask you to stay?”, and he smiles sarcastically. “Okay!”
He turns towards his obnoxious computer gaming setup that I hate so fucking much, puts his Corsair headphones on and puts on CS Go. Code for “I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”
It’s like a disease. A panic attack that comes over me, pushing me to the edge but never quite making the fall. It’s a frenzy of anxiety and bad thoughts and toxic things and heart palpitations. Until it’s all over and you feel fine again. But you know it’ll hit again, sooner or later.
I love him. You might say I’m stupid (because I am, trust me I know) but I love him. And he loves me, and I know it. Ding, ding, ding! We’ve got a dumb bitch over here. Cue the eye rolls. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking. People who love you don’t hurt you like that. Are you sure?? All my life, I’ve seen people hurt each other and what I’ve learned from that is we usually tend to hurt the people we love. It’s not impossible. It’s not a fugazzi or some silly myth that isn’t real. You’ve never hurt your mother? Your sister? Your girlfriend? We’re all human. And some of us are a little too human, if you know what I mean. Sometimes you get a little too human that you start approaching the inhuman spectrum. It’s not that it’s okay to hurt people or that they should be forgiven, it’s that it doesn’t invalidate the presence of love.
He’s a little fucked in the head. I’m a little fucked in the head. But that’s a story we’ll save for next time.
He turns away from his game, does the same cheesy arm-wrapping thing and utters the same meaningless word: “Sorry. I’m trying.” Hell, we both have been trying for three years. There’s been a lot of trying. We’re trying everyday and it feels like we’re failing every time. It’s not like I’ve accepted that this is it. That this is all we’re ever going to be. I’m still holding out hope that we’ll grow out of this. I have to. Because we’ve been through hell and back, and the only thing holding us together (individually, lol) is having each other through all of it. I won’t accept that we’re just another toxic relationship cliche. Not just yet.
We’re only as happy as we think we’ll ever be. I think for most of us mortals, we hold on until we can because we’re willing to bet on that happiness. Risking all the factors. Time, mostly. Because we want to convince ourselves the price is still all worth it.
Loading comments...