"Don't love me" he said tonight. I immediately knew, for certain... I've been fooling myself. Patting myself prematurely on the back for moving on so fast. For not obsessing over the new guy, who's wonderful and beautiful and someone I would normally obsess over. For being happy. For being sober. When he was my addiction all along.
I don't know if he realizes what that means, to stop loving him. I don't know if I know.
It's time for me to re-define love. The romantic kind. I want it to be about friendship and fun and sex and being ourselves, together, not longing and fear and obsessive lust and pretending we're other people. I want to stop thinking of it as a movie. As a drama where I'm the heroine.
I want to stop this negative, never-ending cycle of bliss/pain, bliss/pain, bliss/pain, bli…
I want to stop aching for his body, smell, touch, attention. I want to stop crying. Not because he asks me to, but because I don't need his approval anymore. Because I remember, when it counts, that anyone who asks you to stop crying, anyone who first pays you, then judges you for letting others pay you, isn't your friend who loves you. I want to stop crying because he doesn't believe that I love him. Maybe he's right and I never did love him. Maybe I was just feeding my ego monster.
I want to be free again. Not again. I want to escape the longing for the first time. I've never yet been free of it. I've never been enough for me, and I want to know how that feels.
And I will be. I'm just not as close to freedom as I'd let myself believe. I want to stop obsessing about being loved, forever, and just love, now, any chance I get. Myself. My lovers. The new guy. Future new guys. My friends and family. My life.
I want to take time and just be me again.
It's a slippery slope when you're hanging on, and your sweat and tears are dripping onto the dirt below, and one day you have to let go.
(Now. To think of a suitable pseudonym for New Guy)