I don’t know why I go through so many days of feeling great, then it just seems like I have to face all those feelings that I am working through…all at once.  Why all at once.  Why can’t I have a little here and a little there…why can’t it be when I want to instead of when I don’t want to.  When I am alone, in the quiet.  And why the fuck does it always have to come with a panic attack.  I mean really, what’s going to happen to me, NOTHING. I have been hurt, that’s it.  It’s not like I am going to die from it.  Although last week, that’s what it felt like.

I saw him yesterday.  For the first time since it ended. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to handle it, or what I was going to feel.  Since the range of emotions that I have been having has been vacillating from hurt, to love, to anger, to not caring.  It was good…he smelled like him….that smell I love so much…I always say that to him…”you smell like you”.  I’m sure he thinks I’m weird, or one beer short of a six pack…or I guess in my day, a 30 pack.  I love the way he smells, feels, tastes, kisses..everything.  Even the unmentionables…it’s just him…I love him.  I wish he loved me like that. I wish he could see and feel the pain that is inside of me.  The wretching, gut tearing, one ton weight on my chest feeling I have sometimes.  The grabbing the pillow sobs that claw out of my throat, lungs, chest, heart when I cry over him.  I wish he could feel that, and maybe he would understand.  Then again, maybe he wouldn’t.  Maybe he wouldn’t care.  Maybe it wouldn’t matter.

He told me he missed me.  And since I tend to be somewhat of a smart ass, I replied “that’s cuz I’m awesome..haha” .  He said that maybe I was awesome and that was why he missed me, but he didn’t know, and maybe he would figure it out.  HUH?  Why do you have to figure out why you miss someone…you miss them because you care, and love them.  I wonder why he has to figure it out, but that’s his choice.  Maybe he’s never felt love before, maybe he can’t feel love. Maybe he’s scared of what he’s feeling.  Maybe I’m living under a mushroom and really a leprachaun with my little shillelagh.  Who knows.  I just know that I am like a growing amoeba, or rather a traveling amoeba…oozing and slothing around some days standing up in human form, communicating in the english language…laughing, driving, breathing, listening to my heart beat…you know, all that living stuff.  Then back down to the floor I plop, into my featurless, feeling-less, breathing-less form.  Just to rest.  To rest from all this vile vomit that I feel like is inside of me a lot of the time.  That nasty shit that is slowly working it’s way out like a splinter surrounded with puss.  I take a deep breath through my tiny lungless holes in my exterior, so I can summon up the strength and energy to stand back up again and act like that person that I know I am, that person that is hidden inside, under all the manure, maggots and worms.

I know this will pass.  I keep telling myself that.  Cuz, that’s what happens…the sun goes down, and comes back up again.  Things keep going.  New life starts and death becomes, everyday.  But what I am having a hard time with is this grey area.  “I want to be your friend and be with you and around you.”  He must not have a clue how much I want that too, but also how much that hurts.  It’s like he has everything he wants, but I have only a little, and I feel like I am losing.  Losing what?  I don’t have a fucking clue, but it feels like that.  “I want to work on myself”.  Ok, I get that.  I want to work on myself too…I do work on myself.  Every. Freakin. Day.  I didn’t want to get rid of him to work on myself though…I thought that we could share in the healing growth process. I guess not. Or maybe it was too much for him…he did mention that…that a relationship thrown into the “mix” just added too much.  But yet he still wants the benefits of a relationship, but not the committment of one?  Blah…I don’t know.  It’s not that I think that he wants someone else…that’s not it.  I don’t think that he knows what he wants.  I just wish he had known himself well enough BEFORE he said I love you, and before I believed in him.  Then I could have not gotten emotionally involved with him.  I remember asking him if he was emotionally available…and he said yes.  I guess he wasn’t.  Or maybe he was, and when he realized it, it scared him.  Or maybe I just need to quit trying to figure it out and do my own thing.  DUH.  I guess this is my own thing…healing, understanding, growing, praying, learning.  Love isn’t always easy.. it’s not always a tip toe through the tulips…. it’s sometimes a nasty knife into the heart, instead of butterflies in the stomach.

In the end, after all these feelings, thoughts and emotions, the one thing that stands true, is that at the end of the day, I still love this man.  This man who can’t decide if he loves me back.