"Because of you, I try my hardest to forget everything. Because of you, I don't know how to let anyone else in. Because of you, I am afraid."
I am so sick right now that I can barely keep my eyes open to write this. I can't breathe out of my nose nor can I stand up for fear that my head will fall off my shoulders. I am hot and then I'm cold and then I'm nauseous and achey. My glands are swollen and I have to blow my nose every 90 seconds.
I started feeling a little run-down on Thursday morning and today, Sunday, it is full-blown all out illness. It seems that I began to develop something serious late in the night on Wednesday. I can make a correlation here because on Wednesday, when I was in New York City, my ex-boyfriend made me walk over eight avenues in 13 degree weather in stockings and heels to meet him in a diner so that he could tell me that I have ruined his life over the past four years.
I figured that he had chosen this diner as a mid-way point between us though I couldn't fathom how far he had actually come to get here. Eight avenues is certainly a hell of a long walk and in the frigid weather, I assumed that he at least had taken a cab which was a luxury I couldn't afford. Shivering with cold and unable to feel my legs, I slid into the booth across from him to ask him how many blocks he had walked/rode to meet me.
"Oh, I work across the street," he replied, pointing to a building in plain sight.
Eight avenues. Thirteen degrees. I was in a skirt. And heels.
He walked across the street.
It was then and there that I should have gathered up what remained of my pride and quietly exited the diner. But I didn't. I sat for well over 90 minutes, listening to him talk about how I had messed up his life and caused him great pain. He declared after the fact that he felt "much better" about revealing his torment to me. I cannot begin to describe how I felt, after being lectured on a relationship that ended nearly four years ago. I can tell you that I would not have chose the words "much better".
I missed the planned train home and was only able to grab one that left the station at 9:16 pm. The conductor was having problems and the train was delayed, causing the arrival time to be pushed to 11:00. I walked half a mile to my car, which was covered in 5 inches of snow. I drove the twenty minutes home, made myself a bowl of cereal and collapsed into bed at midnight.
One might ask themselves why on earth they put themselves through such hell. To tell you the truth, I don't know. This is why I write. I have no answers. I just know that no matter what is told to me by this person, no matter how many blocks I walk, no matter how sick I become, he is forgiven. As soon as I lay eyes on him, he has never hurt me. How easily eight avenues of walking slip into the back of my mind. The words "selfish" "egotistical" "cold" and "b**ch" that escaped his lips so easily are temporarily forgotten. I sit. I listen. I respond amicably.
Why?
Is there always that one person that can do no wrong to you? Do you forgive as easily as I do? Certainly, I don't forgive or forget with other people as quickly. Why him? Will he always be there, able to get to me when no one else can? I wonder this as I realize that the more I think about it, the more angry I become.
I'm sick. I'm tired. I went out of my way to talk to him after he called me words that stung me to the core. I am so incredibly close to resigning myself to the fact that I will forever be tripped and snared and caught by this man. I've just about given in to the fact that there will always be the part of me that will pick up the phone when he chooses to call and meet him hundreds of yards away from where I happen to be.
Is it abusive? Is it self-inflicted pain? Does it make me weak? Will it ever stop?
No answers to be had. My head and heart hurt too much to find any. For now, I have to shrug, blow my nose and cling tight to the fact that one day I will find someone who will always meet me half way.
Peace.
I started feeling a little run-down on Thursday morning and today, Sunday, it is full-blown all out illness. It seems that I began to develop something serious late in the night on Wednesday. I can make a correlation here because on Wednesday, when I was in New York City, my ex-boyfriend made me walk over eight avenues in 13 degree weather in stockings and heels to meet him in a diner so that he could tell me that I have ruined his life over the past four years.
I figured that he had chosen this diner as a mid-way point between us though I couldn't fathom how far he had actually come to get here. Eight avenues is certainly a hell of a long walk and in the frigid weather, I assumed that he at least had taken a cab which was a luxury I couldn't afford. Shivering with cold and unable to feel my legs, I slid into the booth across from him to ask him how many blocks he had walked/rode to meet me.
"Oh, I work across the street," he replied, pointing to a building in plain sight.
Eight avenues. Thirteen degrees. I was in a skirt. And heels.
He walked across the street.
It was then and there that I should have gathered up what remained of my pride and quietly exited the diner. But I didn't. I sat for well over 90 minutes, listening to him talk about how I had messed up his life and caused him great pain. He declared after the fact that he felt "much better" about revealing his torment to me. I cannot begin to describe how I felt, after being lectured on a relationship that ended nearly four years ago. I can tell you that I would not have chose the words "much better".
I missed the planned train home and was only able to grab one that left the station at 9:16 pm. The conductor was having problems and the train was delayed, causing the arrival time to be pushed to 11:00. I walked half a mile to my car, which was covered in 5 inches of snow. I drove the twenty minutes home, made myself a bowl of cereal and collapsed into bed at midnight.
One might ask themselves why on earth they put themselves through such hell. To tell you the truth, I don't know. This is why I write. I have no answers. I just know that no matter what is told to me by this person, no matter how many blocks I walk, no matter how sick I become, he is forgiven. As soon as I lay eyes on him, he has never hurt me. How easily eight avenues of walking slip into the back of my mind. The words "selfish" "egotistical" "cold" and "b**ch" that escaped his lips so easily are temporarily forgotten. I sit. I listen. I respond amicably.
Why?
Is there always that one person that can do no wrong to you? Do you forgive as easily as I do? Certainly, I don't forgive or forget with other people as quickly. Why him? Will he always be there, able to get to me when no one else can? I wonder this as I realize that the more I think about it, the more angry I become.
I'm sick. I'm tired. I went out of my way to talk to him after he called me words that stung me to the core. I am so incredibly close to resigning myself to the fact that I will forever be tripped and snared and caught by this man. I've just about given in to the fact that there will always be the part of me that will pick up the phone when he chooses to call and meet him hundreds of yards away from where I happen to be.
Is it abusive? Is it self-inflicted pain? Does it make me weak? Will it ever stop?
No answers to be had. My head and heart hurt too much to find any. For now, I have to shrug, blow my nose and cling tight to the fact that one day I will find someone who will always meet me half way.
Peace.
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