I like the way it hurts

I think I’m taking another step forward in the long slow process of getting over erik. He makes me feel bad about myself, a lot. For a long time I didn’t care. in fact I liked it.

The wheel is turning though. I am getting tired of feeling this way, feeling that I’m not good enough, that there is something wrong with me, that I deserve no one, nothing.

I used to love it when he was mean to me. I was mean to him, too. Those first few months. We were enraptured. This desire between us, a nameless shape, rising up from the deep. dripping. dark. dangerous.

It wasn’t just sexy. It was a scorching, razor-sharp, burning white heat.

The things we would say. The things we would do. we luxuriated in the depravity. his cruelty made me wet, my derision made him hard. we came together in delicious shame.

I admit it is weird. We are two seriously fucked up individuals. But that entire dynamic developed so organically, so naturally, that the weirdness of it didn’t bother us. it only made it hotter.

It wasn’t sustainable of course. And probably not very healthy. I didn’t care. it was fun. not just boring old regular fun. Different. this was a pure, unfiltered fun. Something raw and real.

So it was okay then. The meanness. It was the gasoline on the fire burning between us. It was an element of our attraction and a trigger for release.

But now everything has changed. He has moved on. I am no longer a target of his sexual interest. Hell I even question if he wants me as a friend, maybe he keeps me around for his ego. Who knows.

My long winded point here is that his meanness feels different now. Since we aren’t having sex, it feels like he’s being mean just to be mean. He’s certainly not doing for mutual pleasure and satisfaction. Sure I still find some level of enjoyment from it and he is funny and makes me laugh. but at the same time, it pushes that knife even deeper. I’m laughing but also absolutely destroyed.

This has been going on for several months. Him hurting me. And honestly I’ve been ok with it. Because it feels good to feel something. I was so numb before. Nothing could touch me. Then I met him. And something inside me woke up. I felt real again. I felt seen. no longer a ghost. This stupid fucker broke through where all others failed.

I appreciated the good feelings he brought, the happy, the joy, the warm fuzzies. But it’s the ache I crave. the drop. the collapse. That’s the core. My truth.

Look, I am aware of my crazy and manic self esteem issues. I have an insatiable need for validation from men. Is there an end to the number of ridiculous and humiliating things I am willing to do to get their attention? (Apparently not) Why can I only see my value through the eyes of a man? (Because I’m weak) When will I stop attaching my self worth directly to how many men like me/want to fuck me? (Never)

But I’m near a tipping point and something’s gotta give. I might like feeling bad but I do have my limits. I can’t keep apologizing for who I am. and it seems like I’m always doing that with Erik, in one way or another. I’m sorry I’m too much of this. I’m sorry I’m not enough of that. I’m sorry I like you. I’m sorry you don’t like me. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

It makes me sad to let go of my feelings for Erik, because the stupid universe, in her beautiful infinite stupid wisdom, decided he was the boy to bring me out of my slumber. In the fairy tale, we spend forever together. But I was never one for fairy tales and dreams of a one true love.

Only I see, now that it is 8am and I’ve been awake all night, that it’s not his fault that I am the way I am. I can’t even hate him or be mad at him, because he has his own struggles to deal with. His own obstacles. And I know. I know he’s afraid. He’s afraid to let himself love me. He has his own story to write and it’s not up to me where it goes. I can’t make him see what he isn’t ready to see. I gave him a path but he doesn’t want to walk it.

But my story? My story is my own. I am not fated to pine for him for the rest of my days. I don’t have to keep blaming and belittling myself for his failures, for his fear, for his closed heart. That’s his to own. But I can forgive him.

What I really want though is to forgive myself. Forgive myself for loving him. Because it is never silly or embarrassing to make space in our lives for love. I might have performed a few desperate acts, in an attempt to get/keep his attention, that I wish I hadn’t. but that is also ok. it’s not very often that someone like him comes along and shakes up your world. It’s only natural to try and hold on to something that precious for as long as possible.

It still makes me sad tho really really sad. Sigh.

It feels weird that people are up and about at 9am and there is daylight and I’m here with this head full of nighttime and nonsense.