“You met me at a very strange time in my life…”

I decided to get out of the apartment. Get a breath. She tried to smother me with love for this whole time that we were together. I always reminded myself she did it out of a sense of loneliness. I was nothing more than a warm body for her. I had no evidence for this, of course. I had no evidence for anything.

I have a tough time with love. I am the hopeless romantic. The one who loves too hard, but never gets love back. I thought that was my endless fate. To fall in love desperately, but never get loved back. I always wondered where that stemmed from. Maybe my parents never quite showed me love in the same way. Who knows.

It was tough loving her back. There was a risk. That she’d find me repulsive. Gross. Unlovable. That’s how I felt inside any way. Did you know people are good at reading you? People know your entire essence within the first 2 minutes of knowing you. That’s what I read any way. I tried to circumvent that by being fake cool. I wanted to come off as cool. But I wasn’t. I try. A bit too hard.

It wasn’t the fact that I was in love that hurt. No, I never regretted that. I resent that I loved her. That was my problem clearly. I could never be emotionally honest enough to realize that. I just wanted to be in love. That’s all I wanted. But I didn’t choose the right person.

I started to realize something. The moment I opened myself up to love, peace, anything. It immediately was met with apprehension. I was never welcomed into it. I have tried to be vulnerable in the past. But it never bore fruit. So I figured what was the point. What’s the point of opening a door if no one will enter? They see inside that there is nothing there, the floorboards are rotting.

I wanted her back in the apartment at least. To just sit with me. Exist with me. But she hated that. The only intimacy we knew was sleeping in the same bed. I wanted to make tea. She always liked tea. What would change this time?

She wanted me back in. I think. She always forgave easily. But that’s the problem. I wanted to be scolded. I want her to finally admit to herself that I didn’t deserve her. Why would she stay this time?

It my fault for falling in love. I just wish they could say the same.