I keep breaking down with this relationship. The problem is - he didn't do anything so wrong to disgust me or anything so outrageous that would cause me to linger in a sense of repulsion. All he leaves me is ignorance and I am so vulnerable to that. I can not make a move because he needs a reason. He needs a reason for everything. He will not understand if one day I will inform him that I need time to think.
He will tell me I am the bitch who doesn't go out in the field to actually understand his situation.
I am always the BAD guy, alweays and everywhere and I honestly think I let people guilt trip me and this is the only reason I keep feeling the guilts of nothing.
I can't understand if I am just asking for too much. I want to be appreciated, I want to actually feel loved. I can't understand whether I am just a spoiled bitch who watches too much drama and hears too many templated love stories, I don't understand whether what I ask for exists only in the books and movies. Maybe it is me who does not deserve it. I am not amazing, I am not perfect, I may not fit into the frame "a girl to treat nicely" maybe I am not.
I feel like I am being leashed.My heart allows that squeezing feeling to take over everytime I let myself think those thoughts... I am terrified and too dependent on his answer, I am just stupid and naive, I don't know the value of myself whether I sell myself for a high or a low of a price.
Words are nice, actions are descent yet there is no heart.
Yet, I feel lonelier than ever.
What she told me
She said "don't be a fool, know your price, keep your chin up." I permissively laid on the tight front seat of a red Mini Cooper and lamented in a harmony of shrieks and pitch-tone voice: "Really, seriously, I can't even recognize him anymore, he is not the person I first met, he is not the one I fell inlove with!" As those malicious words parted from my lips, I stopped for a second, chewed on the straw of my Milk Tea drink and continued, adding a pitch of drama to my voice: "He just... It's so hard... I don't understand... I can't" I already knew what my companion was going to suggest and mindfully fought off any thought of agreeing with her. "He's acting fishy, are you sure he's lying? he doesn't appreciate you, the life doesn't stop there, he has to keep going, is the going to keep kying to you, maybe he has someone on the side..." I heard it and I did not hear this at the same time, my mind was so far away from the mini Cooper, it flew out of the inviting window, flew past the lights of the BOba place, got carried away with the wind of regret. "How could I even say that about him... This is clearly not how I felt when coming here, why am I saying all these things? Who am I to tell my private... OUR private life to someone who will forget about you in the next three minutes while that tiny foot in cowboy boots presses the accelerator with its tip? Am I staying thruthful to myself. Am I truthful to him? Is this really the way I feel?" I glance at her, her striped dress packed into my huge striped cardigan for warmth. She is two years older, Three sizes smaller and five brains smarter. She looks at me with her sharp brown eyes and I keep my eyes down. I got the A in math class, she got a car, expensive things from her recent boyfriend, who texts her "good night" and drops Red Bull at her house just because he wanted to see her face. She has a story of broken heart that's being in a process of healing by Max, I got the heart that does not know whether the damage is done or is it just that I removed the connction with the synchronization resource too early. She tells me about her story that I heard about five times, emotionally, re-moistening her lips with a quick movement of her tongue when they get too dry because she almost screams accusations and defines the unfairness in her life. The tears are stale in her eyes, they do not linger, they do not move. They are still.
My boyfriend never texts me first, he never surprises me with anything like hers does, my boyfriend is three years younger than hers, he is skinny and tall, he is unemployed and never shares my taste, he is brilliantly smart and, I believe, this is a reason he's a high-school drop out. The gems are never found in the pile of shit, the diamonds don't mingle on the bash. Unless they're bootleg gems and diamonds. Which I prefer not to talk about.
"I thought we had that special thing, the connection, you know?" - I nod impatiently. Can't wait to hear the culmination of her previous love-adventure with a long-distance relationship person. The "wifey material" she calls it. He loved her for Plov, Manti and Hanum, good education, prettiness and looks. Typical Uzbek attitude: "let me mingle while half-single" Typical-guy attitude? My boyfriend goes out a lot, with girls, his "GIRL___FRIENDS" (triple space as a MUST), spends time God knows where and tells me in the evening that I am a bitch for not missing him. Sometimes I wonder how could he even go out with a bitch like me. Seriously, if I am what he describes me to be, I'd probably not regret life-sentence for my own murder. What a bitch! You should only see...
The last advice : watch him, add two and two and you will understand, really, it will take you long time because you love him. It will take your heart, emotions, soul and body to admit: there's no love.
The last advice after the "last advice": "please have value for yourself, there's no one who will pity you, do not pity him. He won't pity you.
"let's sit here for five more minutes."
"hey,, really, you should go home"
"really, like a girl to a girl, last thing: watch him. he is fishy. when I told my EX to fuck off, I had tears in my eyes, it ripped my soul apart to say that. Yet I knew...it was for the good."
"hey where's the bathroom? wanna come?"
"last advice, really. lastest. treat yourself right... how did I even find a guy like my boyfriend? he always reminds me that I am special without me telling him anything. I can't believe I got such guy... Oh yes, just know the price. Let him worry. He's trying to guilt-trip you. Ah, girl, its a NONO."
When I pick up my bag from the floor, get a peck on the cheek and bid "good-bye" to her, the lights on the street are off. I get out right in front of my appartement door are she hits the gas pedal right after I bang the door of the Cooper. I fish out the keys in between to-goed left over food and a cosmetic pouch I never used today. I can still feel the smell of the roten broccolli in the elevator: she explained with apologies that her mom packed her sister and her a broccoli for lunch. The smell lingers in the air when I leave the elevator and I hope it doesn't follow me after I shut my door. I also hope the neighbor who came out of the identical red-orange door didn't have enough time to catch it because the broccoli always smells like fart and I can not lie.