Somehow I’m apologetic enough that I apologize for everything. I don’t discriminate whether or not it’s my fault… if someone is mad and in need of an explanation, I’ll come up with one. Hurt people make me sad, so I do what I can to alleviate the sadness, quickly.
Until it came to the letter left in my mailbox, which was a verbal knife to my sensitive heart. I leave myself open to this sort of thing when I’m honestly vulnerable and I have certainly detailed my weakness for a particularly incredible man.
Words have gotten me in trouble since I could first mouth a few. I have never had much of a filter and carry my heart around in my hands. I’m not good at protecting the soft spots of me, and frequently offer up the new struggles I’m challenged by just in case anyone was ever running short of available targets.
I’m literally an open book.
But when you target someone for those same things, you’re a cold asshole. I’m damn tempted to start calling out my suspects, but more than that- I need to thank them.
They did for me what I couldn’t do for myself. He/She freed me of my bone deep adoration of a man who’s lukewarm about me at best. They showed me a side of him that I can’t stomach. The ice cold hate of a man inconvenienced but not concerned. He didn’t want me making assumptions, but at no point did he care about the decimation they’d caused. That’s not to say he had to, but seeing first hand that it wasn’t ever going to be important to him was the ultimate eye opener.
I can overlook a lot, but when someone doesn’t care AT ALL…. that’s unavoidable and impossible to turn a blind eye to.
I spent a few days drowning my sorrows and mopping myself up. I spent yesterday with my beloved Songbird, who bleached him right out.
What started with opening something designed to hurt me, ended up being exactly what I needed to see, true or not. He may or may not be dating someone… that really is none of my business… all I need to know and remember is that he doesn’t want me. It’s almost worse if it’s just that. But that’s the way it is and it’s taken me a long ass time to realize it.
I watched a bride get her hair done while I was having the sense bleached back into me. She was so lovely and full of hope, almost dancing with joy as she sat calmly in the chair as they pinned her veil on. I got a lump in my throat watching her and realized that it was because I miss myself. I miss the girl that knew how easy love was. The girl who wasn’t ever worried about a boy.
I miss feeling happy, I miss sleeping through the night and I miss being pursued. I’m not cut out for playing on the other team, I admit it.
I left my hair appointment feeling like a trillion dollars and looking like it, too. I stopped and got lunch to surprise him, hoping the air had cleared since he’d read about the awful letter. Ever apologizing for being human and having feelings that can be hurt if they’re not guarded. I knew I’d made a mistake as soon as I walked in and saw him look up.
Cold disinterest. Not a word about my pretty hair. Not a single syllable about the stupid letter. He ate the lunch I brought him and barely looked at me.
Here’s your sign.
It may as well have flashing lights and an air horn.
He’s not just not that into me… he doesn’t care in the slightest.
And there you have it. The saddest little epilogue to the longest, worst wait in history.
One that is finally over.