There are about ten people in my living room right now -- four of whom I never wanted to see again in this life or the next. I don't want them here, but they are my roommate's guests and, because I'm trying to be nice, I can't be the bitch I want to be. So, instead of going out and making a scene, I'm sitting quietly in my room. I can't leave, because I don't want to be seen by them. I don't want them to remember I'm here, because then I'll have to put on a mask I don't feel strong enough to wear right now.
I feel like I'm living in the middle of a tornado. Some things are good, some things are bad -- but they fly past me at such speeds that I don't have time to settle on one or another. My only shelter is found in books and video games. Things are getting dangerous though. I can actually feel myself slip out of reality and into these things and, even when I know I'm speaking and acting in real life, I feel like it's all a game that I can save and reset.
I cried over my ex again tonight. I haven't done that in a long time. Maybe it's because his friends are in my living room right now, maybe it's because of a song I was listening to. Maybe it's because all of my emotions are pushing their way through the dam, and I'm afraid the little Dutch boy is going to die once again, because I can't plug the hole.
The thing is this; I wasn't crying because I miss him. There's a great line I heard, "I'm not sorry I met you, I'm not sorry it's over, I'm not sorry there's nothing to say." and it's true. I no longer look back and regret meeting him. I don't long for him to be here holding me, though I would be lying if I said I don't want someone here now. I don't even regret that I will never speak to him again. I would have nothing to say to him if I saw him. I was crying for myself, and how I felt that I had been used and abused once again by a man that I put my trust in. I know I did it to myself just as much as he did it to me. I like to believe people are better than they really are. I turn blind eyes to their faults and deaf ears to anyone who would tell me otherwise. It's only after I get seriously hurt that I turn on them and look anew. This isn't something I just do with guys -- I do it with all of my friends. If you are my friend, I will not believe ill of you until you force me to. In a way, I think this is a strength. It keeps me from becoming poisoned by the words of others. But I realize it is also a weakness. I couldn't see what my high school boyfriend was. I couldn't see what my best friend from high school was either. I trusted four people who now sit in my living room that turned on me and made my life miserable. I trust beyond the understanding of others. I have patience that baffles my parents and my real friends. It is both gift and curse, strength and weakness, blessing and abomination.
I am scared for my future, I am lonely in my present, and I am hurting from my past. I hate nights like these.