A year ago, I came home on a late Sunday after a weekend in Coronado. My braces were taken off that Friday and I was enjoying the lightness in my jaw and the beautiful sun-filled weekend. Then I started worrying about the history presentation I had Tuesday, and I hadn’t read the material yet. The day I presented with my group, well things really changed: I became closer to my classmate, somehow managed to find someone I found attractive be attracted to me, and experienced a bomb threat. That Friday, did shit escalate.
Above is what I opened my planner to a few minutes ago. The two quotes I use repeatedly, it’s insane. This week was hell but not the only one I had faced nor had yet to. The day we broke up and the day we fucked up. I should be relaxed and not be bothered by the lack of a relationship this past year. I’m a few inches away from throwing in the towel completely. I don’t give up on people, even though I give into their pleas and sweet but rare acts of friendship. But will this finally wear me down? Can I really cave now?
I’m not used to this. If this is facing my fear, then it’ll be far more painful than it ever was. So, is it even worth it? If I drop the habit, am I going to be bitter, is this going to worsen, will I forgive both of us?
Am I okay with leaving an entire existence behind, to remain static, until he drives away and happily forgets?
Because I’m not. I’m scared he left that week in June, or that Saturday morning after, or even the hour after I admitted my faults and feelings. Who was there and who pretended?
Finishing the last two episodes/season finale of How I Met Your Mother