just been up twisting myself into knots again, in quiet agony from the anxiety of mental gymnastics that are now beyond me. not as a result of anything that has just been said, just from trying to maintain some hope from the pieces I’m left with.
the realisation that you probably really don’t mean that much to somebody, never did, it’s awful. realising the one-sidedness of the affection you hold for someone.
that they were probably just being courteous, not wanting to cause pain and probably saying what they thought you wanted to hear.
that the confusion when you first started letting on how much they meant to you wasn’t just modesty, that it was confusing because whatever was budding didn’t feel that significant to them.
that you will never be more than an occasional person to them when they felt like the whole world to you. that if they ever make time again, it’ll just be because they happen to be passing through, or in the same place briefly.
I hope this doesn’t sound like I ever felt entitled to anything. I just feel like a profound connection I thought I made has just been mostly an illusion. and I needed that connection; it filled a void in me, started to heal all the emotional trauma I have been through, in a way that nothing else could, in a way beyond therapy, beyond medication.
maybe I’m just tearing myself up again. maybe I’m going too far in the other direction. it’s probably somewhere in the middle. probably that this person really did want to get to know me, but has found it too difficult of late. surely they must care, if they haven’t completely abandoned me after all my shit.
either way, why am I clinging on to this? it’s just making me unhappy.
I can’t keep putting myself out there and getting only relative indifference. but I’m desperate not to retreat back into that guarded state, because that’s what they pulled me out of to begin with. and I was in hell, for years. absolute abjection.
I don’t know what to do. I can’t cope with this. I want to believe that we’ll see each other and spent time hanging out and they’ll start to feel as much affection as I do (as friends, probably, which I need to reiterate is something I could be happy with, if it was a real, emotional thing). but what if they just stay a closed book, what if they still end up not having room for me?
I’m sure people would also say it isn’t okay to place that burden on somebody. but I don’t feel like I have that with any of my actual family anymore. as much as I try, I struggle to feel that depth of connection with any of my other friends. and I can’t make up for that absence by myself - it’s fundamentally impossible. it has to somebody else.
it isn’t any expectation of emotional labour, either; I have no desire to be talking about any of my struggles. I just want the happiness, the lightness. that isn’t something that has to be a burden; that’s something that would feel good for both parties.
sorry for the self-centred ramble. I feel like it’s impossible to fully convey my struggles with utter lack of self-esteem, crippling anxiety. feels like they must seem like nothing, even though these things consume me completely. there is a lot of context which informs why I am the way I am which I have not spoken of here. I promise I’m not a terrible person. just a completely broken one.