*Originally written May 2008*
"I don't even like the guy anymore...I'm over him, I just write to express and exaggerate my feelings because I know others feel it too."
WHO THE FUCK WAS I KIDDING?!
So here I am again - laying in bed under my covers, thinking of him, with hot tears streaming down my face, wondering why I allowed him to come back into my life. It's been three days since he's been back and three days filled with harmonious bliss combined with a constant deterioration of my heart. I automatically knew when I saw the missed call from (478), who it was. I knew what the possible consequences were of me calling him back, but I followed my heart and it led me back to him.
That's all I can think of myself at the moment, because I know there's no one else to blame but me. I chose to ignore my conscience and felt the need to love him again because I missed him, but moreso missed us. It felt so good to see him smile again...to hear his laugh, feel his touch. However, despite the fact that he called me first to come see him on his first day back, I knew I was playing second to someone else.
What the fuck am I doing here?!
That's all I could think, while I watched him ignore phone calls from his girlfriend and laugh at the texts she sent expressing her anger. Despite everything I was witnessing, it felt too good being able to be with him again - I couldn't give it up. I love this man too damn much and I need him. So I sit here, trying to make some sense of it. Trying to make myself feel special and convince myself that this is right. But somehow, deep down, I know that it's wrong.
Damn, this shit is so crazy. It's been 3 months since I've seen him and here we are, kickin' it like nothing ever happened - like nothing ever changed between us. Sharing passionate kisses, laughing, and holding one another...Where did we go wrong? Better yet, where did I go wrong?
I was on the right track, I swear. I was in the process of overcoming this addiction and yet here I am again, back at square one. I always know that the feeling of elation that I get from him is only temporary and that dysphoria is right around the corner waiting to victimize me.
Why am I still here?
I ask myself that question everyday, unable to obtain an answer. Wondering why I have this vehement desire to want to love him and to make him happy, when those feelings aren't reciprocated. But this most recent relapse has made me realize that I'd rather feel pain temporarily mixed with that harmonious bliss with him, than to hurt without any happiness without him. I don't want to be alone.
While the first step is admitting that I have a problem, I guess the second step is realizing that I can't shake my addiction.
Damn, I can't believe I'm this weak.