» When It’s Over.
  • When It’s Over.

    Aug 02nd • Posted in love, personal

    I know what it’s like to drown in someone, and I know what it’s like to not even attempt to dip your toes in the shallow end. But this is the first time I feel like I’m sinking.

    It has been four months. Four months of frenetic, frenzied fornication— amongst other things. I wonder if you can tell. I wonder if you feel the same way. I wonder if you can feel it. I know you can feel, and I know you can tell when I feel things too. Then again, I don’t hide it well. Most dinners nowadays, I’ll sit across from you in thick silence and shoot you a tiny smile. It probably isn’t sincere. Most weekends, I’m just pissed at you. Maybe it’s because you said you were coming at ‘6ish,’ and instead show up four hours later— even after my food delivery came. (You complained because I left my phone on silent and left you out in the rain for ten minutes. In this case, you deserved it.) You emphasized the ish and when I pushed the subject, you cut me off and told me I needed to relax. Maybe it’s stuff like this that pushes me over the edge.

    And it’s talks like this that pushes you over the edge. I wonder if you know how unhappy I am. I wonder if this is just me feeling “comfortable” with our relationship, or if there are legitimate concerns to address.

    You told me you’d be coming over at 2ish. It is now 2:23 AM. There is a sense of ambiguity and general ambivalence that clouds our relationship. I’m not sure when it arrived, but it’s staying and growing and raining down on me. The rain has created an ocean that I’m trying not to sink in, but it’s hard when my hands are tied and I can’t swim. I try to float, but I’m being weighed down.

    This weekend was meant to be a romantic weekend filled with fun and a lot of good music. It’ll probably be the latter, but it won’t be romantic. Sure, we’ll fuck and we’ll probably dance and make out— but it won’t be genuine. We both know we’re going through the motions because we are both too lazy, busy, and lonely to find someone else. It’s why we’re still together. I’m trying not to be mad or upset, but it’s almost 3 in the morning and I really just want to go to bed— but instead I’m up, waiting for you. Because I might miss your call. I might leave you out there waiting. (It’s happened before.)

    I don’t want to sound accusatory, I don’t want to sound desperate, and I don’t want to sound mean. But I’m so exhausted. I am exhausted trying to be ‘fun’ for you, and I am exhausted trying to pretend that these little differences in our mindset and our relationship do not bother me. They do. Maybe I am not drowning in you— but I am sinking. I am getting weighed down. I’m trying so hard to give a shit, and I still do. But it’s stopping.

    I know because I didn’t text you last weekend, I didn’t call you last weekend— but most of all… I didn’t really miss you at all. Nights where I’d sit around, giddy and tingling from the raw chemistry that was there have turned into nights like this, where I sit up until 3 in the morning— waiting for you, or overthinking something you’ve said to me. I spend some nights resentful and bitter. That is the opposite of what I want in a relationship.

    So you should know that when I let you in the door this time, that it’ll probably be the last. I will spend this weekend with a forced smile on my face, even though I’m lugging around a heavy heart. I won’t try to hold your hand anymore, or kiss you on the cheek, or laugh at any of your jokes. And if I do, it won’t be sincere. I’ll enjoy this weekend, but this time— it won’t be because of you.

    It will be because of the fact that after this weekend, I’m free of you.