Hurt Ramblings

I have this ugly big gash on the joint of my right index finger...another, smaller, a little further up on the same knuckle. That came from punching a wall. Good idea when angry and a little tipsy - bad idea when you wake up the next morning and find yourself bandaging the injury.

Earlier today, I cried in the shower. After some heart-wrenching news, I let myself slide down the side of the stall, curl my arms around my legs, and sob...not for a long time, but these little sporadic bursts. I'd wash...allow my mind to drift to some dismaying thought...then let out a few seconds of tears. Rinse. Repeat.

I feel like I've been here before...maybe this is not nearly so bad as it used to be, but it all seems so familiar. Three summers ago and the subsequent year, through the entirety of my relationship with Zack, I was in an insane tornado of emotions, with most of them being bad. Then, my pain manifested in frequent, horrible crying, intense depression, and scars along my skin which, I believe, nobody notices except me. (One I am particularly fond of, as it faces me any time I drive...a spider-web thin mark on the inner flesh of my arm, untraceable to most but distinctly me.)

And maybe it even reminds me a little bit of the heartache I felt a mere year ago when things with Trent went from disappointing to awful. There was this intense, terrible sense of embarrassment and helplessness and...betrayal. Like, how could I put in so much effort into this relationship, and you put in nothing? Look at all I've given up for you...what have you even dared to give up for me? What have you done to make this work.

That feeling, too, is very familiar.

And I hate being the girlfriend that gets upset...the one that is hurt every other night by something you've done. And for the past couple of weeks, I've blamed myself and told myself that it was my fault...I was being irrational and over-emotional and I just needed to deal with it and not care and things would be fine.

And then maybe, in a strange sense, this is the last straw.

I dealt with it okay when he stopped sending sweet text messages telling me that he loved and missed me, because when ever I came to visit, they would start up again after I left...for a little while. I was alright when the calls became less frequent and shorter. When the summer first started, we were on the phone ALL the time, for hours and hours on end, often playing a video game together. After the video game lost it's novelty and the day-time minutes began to rack up, the time that we spent in contact got a lot shorter, and I attributed it mostly to those other more reasonable factors...nothing to do with our relationship. I tried to let it go.

And then there was the night about a week ago, when I was told that I was "high maintenance" when it came to phone calls and how I shouldn't be upset if he didn't call one night and "just forgot." I cried...hard. I tried to argue my case that a phone call shows effort...it shows that you care...that you are thinking about the other person. And when he told me that he wasn't trying to insinuate anything or set me up for a bigger fall and that everything was fine with us...I tried really hard to believe him, and let it go.

Maybe it was around this time that I began to notice all the really happy couples, that we once were. The ones who leave away messages that say "Love you" to their significant other on their away message, or are constantly texting them with sweet messages, or SO excited to see them. I wondered where that had gone.

And here I am, now. Having rearranged my schedule and switched my work load around so that I could go and see him for a few days...sleep next to the man who says he loves me. And when I asked "Do you want me to come and see you tonight or tomorrow", I got the reply (2 hours later)..."Tomorrow sounds good."

Not a big deal, right?

Somehow, it just stung...so much.

"Why not tonight?" I ask. Curious.

"I'm with my friends tonight. Band stuff."

With friends he had seen the past 4 nights in a row. Who lived a whopping 5 minutes down the street. He can see them any time. Where as I...I live 3 and a half hours away. I was willing to take 4 hours and spend $70 in gas just so that I could be with him. And who does he choose? Not me.

And I miss those days when he used to get ecstatic to see me and beg me to come down a little bit earlier...just so I could see him. I am so pained at the loss of the nights when he would text me to tell me how excited he was to see me. Now when I ask if he's still up for having me come visit I get : "Yuppers."

Oh, fantastic.

I think I deserve better than this, and I think that my patience is wearing thin.