The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
He texted me. Finally.
Good, being generally forgettable is not a good feeling.
I’ve always known that I love too much and too fast, my struggle with maintaining relationships is something I’ve grown far too comfortable with. It’s not that I wanted for this to happen, to sit and wait for someone…anyone…to reach out to me first. I’m tired, that’s all. Tired of being the friend that is always there no matter what, only to get crickets in return. Tired of wondering if the fact that he hasn’t texted me in 2 days means he doesn’t need me anymore. Tired. Just plain tired. I know that it’s all in my head and that to some people I might seem clingy or obsessive but the truth is that I just want to love. I want to be able to give things without the fear that I’m doing too much. I want to joke and laugh and cry and have intimate conversations with people but there’s something holding me back. Something that tells me that they don’t care about me the way that I care about them. I want to say “I love you” to everyone I was afraid to before. But I’m afraid I’ll regret it by tomorrow morning, I don’t want to let people in, I don’t want to be rejected. I’m afraid of opening up and getting hurt. Oh, and it hurts… like hell. Is it just me, or do you ever lay in bed at night wondering where you went wrong in all of the connections that were once meaningful? Do you ever think about how there are parts of yourself you will never see again because only that one person could bring it out in you? Sometimes I stay up late and re-play my life at 10x speed. I wonder if it’s true what they say; the more you experience something, after a while, it’ll begin to lose its meaning. If that’s the case, I’m wondering how many more times I will have to replay saying goodbye to pieces of myself? Pieces of me lodged so deep within another being that they’re no longer my pieces. How many times will I have to watch people I love walk out of my life before it becomes meaningless? At what point will my insides finally stop breaking while replaying old memories? All I know is, I’ve lost count of how many times my mind has replayed these goodbyes; not once has it gotten easier.
At least he texted me.