He is perfect. I mean, I don’t mean that literally, he has a ton of flaws. But to me... for me, he is perfect. We met in high school, and from the moment we said our first words to each other, I knew that we were meant to be together. Now by together, I don’t necessarily mean as a couple. Of course that’s what I wished for, but I knew that even if that didn’t work out, we’d be friends or something. As time went on, and I got to know more and more about him, that feeling intensified. And like an idiot, I fell in love.
We were basically doomed from the start. We met for the first time in the back of Carl’s Jr. He worked there, and I had just been hired. I thought he was really cute. I flirted. Until I found out he had a girlfriend. He was seeing this girl, this horrible, wretched girl. And he truly believed he loved her. He and I became really good friends. He introduced me to her and the rest of their friends. They all liked me. She hated me. Which is understandable. I told him that I couldn’t keep being his best friend. It made me feel guilty, even though we were strictly platonic. He broke up with her.
We started dating. I started to fall in love. I tried to tell myself to stop, that it was just high school puppy love. That he was going to go back to her the second she asked him to. Which is essentially what happened. I later found out the real reason.
The rest of that year sucked. Seeing him with her. Knowing how horrible she was to him. But I did it. I got through the rest of my senior year, and I graduated. We stopped talking. Four years passed by, with me occasionally checking his Facebook to see how things were going. When I saw that he married that awful woman, I stopped. I locked away my feelings and I moved on.
Out of the blue, I got a message from him on Facebook. He told me that he had messed a lot of things up, and asked if we could meet for drinks. I asked him if his wife knew he had messaged me. He told me she did. We made plans to meet up later that week, but he ended up canceling the day before. He said that he never should have reached out to me. A few days later, he messaged me again, told me was drunk, and needed a ride home. I went and picked him up. I dropped him off at his house. About 20 minutes after I left, I get a message from his wife, thanking me for picking him up. I told her that it should have been her. That she was the one he needed. I told her to wake up before she lost the best thing that ever happened to her. She never responded.
I started seeing this guy. So I stopped messaging HIM. I stopped getting on Facebook, because that’s how we’d been talking. A couple months pass, and I can’t stand this relationship I’m in. I get on Facebook and have a slew of messages from HIM. We start talking again. He tells that his wife has left. How he found out that she had been cheating on him for the entirety of their relationship. How they are getting divorced. I tell him of this guy I’m seeing. How I can’t stand him. Now I’m miserable every time we are together. I break things off.
And now. He and I are together. And it’s everything I have wanted since the day we met. He’s told me that he regrets ever choosing her over me. He told me about the day he made the decision, and to be honest, it’s a really stupid reason, but it makes sense. She gave him what he wanted and I gave him what he needed.
And now, it’s like I can physically feel how much I love him. I can see how I’ve compared every man I’ve ever tried to be with to him. How I’ve missed his little smirk, and this smile he gets when he looks at me. I see how much I love the feel of his arms around me, his breath on my cheek. I know that going to him feels like coming home, like everything warm and safe. I know that I would do anything for this man. And yet, I fear that it is not enough.
I fear that there will come a day that my love for him will not be strong enough to fight his demons. That it will not shine bright enough to light the darkness that shrouds his dreams. That it will not be pure enough to stand against his own self doubts. That it will not be whole enough to fix him. I feel all of this mixed in with my love for him, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to deal with it.
I keep it locked inside me. All this self doubt I have. I keep it locked up, hoping that if enough time passes, it will go away. But so far it hasn’t. It is persistent.
And I... I just don’t know what to do with it.
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Waking up with Depression
I open eyes, slowly. Another day here, and already I can tell it’s going to be hard. I can tell it’s going to be hard by the ache that rests in my chest. By the tightness that settles in my lungs. And mostly by the lack of feeling anything. I can tell that today is going to be long and exhausting. I already want to go back to sleep. I don’t want to get up, I don’t want to look in the mirror, and I definitely don’t want to hear my minds automatic self loathing response to seeing my reflection. But I push the blankets back anyway, slide my feet to the floor, and slowly sit up, my head immediately falling into my hands, my elbows on my knees. I sit there for a few minutes, convincing myself that I can do this. I stand up, and shakily walk to the bathroom. I refuse to look in the mirror. I won’t let the thoughts that are constantly racing through my mind take over, not this early. I go through my daily morning routine, sans mirror. I walk out the front door. I pause for a moment, feeling the sun on my face, in the chilly October air. I get in my car, and drive to work, music blaring, and feel the ebb of a headache beginning to take hold. I try to keep the horrible thoughts at bay, as they begin telling me that I’m no good, that I’m going to mess up, that someone is going to die because of me. I pull into the parking lot, walk into the building, up 17 stairs, turn, and up 9 more. Through a total of 4 key carded doors. I clock in, sit down at my console, log into what seems like a million screens. Put my headset on. Go ready. I pop a few Tylenol, even though they never work anymore. The first call drops in my ear. I handle it, hang up, and it’s nothing but thoughts about how I could have handled it better. This process is repeated for the next 12 hours, with my headache, along with those self loathing thoughts, slowly getting worse with each call. The worse the call, the worse the thoughts are. At the end of my shift, I leave, feeling like I have failed. I feel like I have failed my callers, and my coworkers, both who depend on me to do my absolute best one hundred percent of the time. I drive home, taking the long way; the longest and most round about way I have yet to find. Thinking about all the people I have let down, all the people I have yet to let down, I hold the tears in. As I pull into my driveway, my tears dry, and my eyes brighten at the thought of my dog. She’s always happy to see me. I’m greeted by her at the door, jumping all over me, and howling like she always does. I go to my bathroom, shower, finish my bedtime routine, again, sans mirror. I don’t want the bad thoughts to be the last ones in my mind before I fall asleep. I crawl into bed, and my amazing little puppy burrows into my back, I close my eyes. I think about my day, and as I do, I try to remain as objective as possible. It’s something that I am still working on. I realize that my day has not been as bad as my thoughts would lead me to believe. That I have not failed like I thought I had. And the last thought I have before I drift off to dreamless sleep is, “You are enough.”
By Brookelyn Schuler6 years ago in Psyche
Deadly Grace: Understanding the Artistry of Real Butterfly Knife Handling
Introduction In the realm of bladed weapons, few possess the allure and mystique of the butterfly knife, also known as the balisong. This deceptively simple yet intricate folding knife has captured the imagination of martial artists, collectors, and enthusiasts alike, its origins shrouded in mystery and its mastery demanding equal parts skill and respect. The mesmerizing dance of spinning blades belies a formidable tool with a rich history and a legacy of both artistry and danger. In this exploration, we will delve into the world of real butterfly knife handling, unveiling the discipline required to wield these blades with deadly grace, and the artistry that lies at the heart of this captivating martial art.
By Zara Sophia6 days ago in Humans
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