unrequited love (literally)

It’s late and I can’t sleep, so what do I think to do? I think it wise to sit at a computer typing out all these thoughts I’ve been having for the past however many weeks it has been. CLEVER LOVEDAY. Stimulate that brain instead of putting it to sleep.

So, by now my blog isn’t very anonymous and I actually have it set to automatically share every post to Facebook and Twitter (attempting to break the stigma, ya know). This means it is actually very hard for me to talk about certain things because people know more detail than is necessarily helpful to my writing. For instance, I want to write about my break up. But that’s not easy when 99% of people reading this probably know exactly who I was dating. And it’s not fair on him either.

But I want to write about this stuff. So, what do I do? I’m going to write. But not anything damning or rude; I’m not going to go into the depths of the falling apart of my relationship or share anything personal beyond myself. I’m going to write about the emotional journey (cliché phrasing, I know) that I have been on.

I have to say first, I am in a much sounder place in my head and I am genuinely happier than I have been in a long time – this break up was for the best for both of us – I hope he is happier too.

So, Loveday, what are you on about? Well, reader, I want to talk about the feeling of loving someone who no longer loves you back. Maybe my love grew, whilst his remained the same. Perhaps he had loved me less for a long time and my love for him was the same as ever. Truthfully, there will never be any way to evaluate that properly and I’m not sure I would want to know the answer anyway.

I was beginning to feel crushed, as though my body was being shattered into pieces. It took control of my body very physically and aggressively, and I had no control over it. I was sick several times a day, gripped by anxiety and in very real bodily pain. But that’s just the physical side of it – mentally, I had been fighting a lot harder and for a lot longer. We knew going to different universities would be hard, but nobody could really prepare us for how hard it was going to be. It got to the point where I constantly wanted to scream at him and demand that he love me back just as much as I love him. But love is a funny thing; you can’t just force someone to love you more, or even to love you back.

I felt him slip away from me those last few weeks. Only it wasn’t a gradual falling apart. Suddenly, one day, he just no longer had space for me in his life. Whilst I had all the space for him in the world. So, I was thrust out of his life while he slowly fell out of mine. In my head, he was my be all and end all. He was the oxygen which I breathed everyday, and losing him would kill me. So, I gripped tighter, I breathed heavier and deeper, until eventually the air ran out. I bled him dry. And if he’s reading this, I am so sorry for that – that is where I will accept my blame in this mess.

The pain I felt over those few weeks was indescribable. My whole body hurt physically and my mind was the worst place to be stuck. I threw myself into a whole new world and behaved in ways that speak nothing of my true character. I had no self-worth. I became a shell of a person, I had no substance, so I left him with nothing to love. I was angry at him all the time, because I couldn’t understand why our love wasn’t the same anymore. I couldn’t comprehend how I could still love him so hopelessly and yet he didn’t love me like that anymore. In some ways, I still can’t. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still lie awake and hurt at night sometimes. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still furious at him for everything that happened, for throwing it all away. But, as I said before, I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t happier. The pain of loving someone who doesn’t love me back is still kicking – not constantly – but it’s there. However, I’ve come to learn that I love this idea of the person I thought he was (and, even, the person he used to be) and that person does not exist. So, I love someone who doesn’t exist, someone who maybe never even did exist. And the person I projected that great love onto has stopped loving me, whether he was that actual person or not. (I’m sorry if I’m not making sense…) And the pain of that is all-encompassing and horrific at times. This is not something I would wish on my worst enemy.

 

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