The Suckish Reality of My Suckish Existence

At around 7:15 I got this text from my friend Maya: would you be super mad if I dated Brian?

Brian, who I have loved and crushed on for so long (and who will never return my feelings), Brian who makes me laugh, who makes me cry, who is the only person who can simultaneously make me laugh while I'm crying on the inside.

Brian, who Maya now wants to date. Maybe, if I wasn't heartbroken over him I'd be fine with it. Maybe, if Maya hadn't said, "I DON'T--AND WILL NEVER--LIKE BRIAN THAT WAY!" and then changed her mind fifty billion times.

I really wanted to write back: why, yes, Maya, I would be very mad. Superbly, completely, entirely, irreversibly mad. Does that answer your question?

Instead, I gave a stupid, I'm-too-nice-to-tell-the-truth answer: It would make me feel heartbroken.

Heartbroken! HEARTBROKEN! Like it even matters? Let's face the truth, my heart will be more than broken if Brian chooses her over me. I was actually becoming accustomed to the idea of just being friends with him. I could have made it work.

But now...this changes everything. Those little, unimportant nine words on their own don't mean anything. But put those together and you get a recipe for my worst nightmare.

The worst thing is, Brian has been drooling (it's true) over her since he pretty much first met her. I can't imagine facing Brian and acting like everything's fine. Brian tries to be a nice guy, but I know, inside, that if he were faced with a choice of stay girlfriend-less or date Maya, he'd go to her.

Also, I know, that if it came down to me as his best friend or Maya as his girlfriend, as my dad says, Brian would choose Maya.

He's right. And why wouldn't he be?

I guess my pathetic, idiotic, broken heart just wants to deny, deny, deny.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Sometimes

Sometimes I believe I can fly. Sometimes I spread my wings and soar through the sky. But it's when I wander too close to the sun that I get burned. 

We like to think we're invulnerable, that we cannot be harmed. But I can tell you that these types of thoughts simply add to our vulnerability. All the pain I've endured in my mere sixteen years has been elevated by that feeling of invincibility, that idea that nothing can touch me.

No matter where you go, loss will follow you. You can and will lose things you love most. Believing you will not is a foolish ideal I do not recommend harboring.

Have I made mistakes? Have I lost that which I love most? Certainly. I used to think perservering, putting a show- no- emotion expression on in the face of tragedy was a true sign of bravery.

It's not. It's weak, denying your feelings passage. It's a cop out. You cannot expect to solve anything by running away. To stand and look them in the eye and deal with it- -THAT is true bravery.

The Mysterious Case of the Broken Heart

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." ~Eleanor Roosevelt

While that might be true, apparently my consent is not needed. The hardest thing in life is to give someone everything you have, to lay your feelings all out on the table, and for them to go, "Oh, no thanks."

It's not just upsetting, it's mortifying. To put yourself out there, vulnerable to everyone, is one of the hardest things to do. It's also one of the hardest things to bounce back from.

The dreaded four words: "Let's just be friends."

A loud thunk echoes in my chest, my heart hitting rock bottom. The sound of glass shattering is my heart breaking in two. Life is one of those things that is full of surprises...was it stupid of me to hope that him liking me back could be one? That maybe, just maybe, he returned my feelings?

Maybe my expectations were too high. Maybe I'm just not pretty enough. Maybe the attraction just isn't there for him.

No matter the reason, rejection is awful. It's humiliating. It made me want to hide under a rock and never come out. But I did, because I refuse to let the sick feeling of having your feelings unrequited keep me from living my life.

I guess I should have known better; this is my life we're talking about. UGH. I feel like such a moronic idiot, and yes, I know that's stupid, since I'm basically calling myself a dummy two times, but I don't give a flying fuck.

I've never felt so awkward and mortified in my entire life. But I want to know something: can you ever go back? Can you ever leave the Realm of Uncomfortable Situations and rejoice in the Land of All is Forgiven?

I hope so. That's the only way I'll be able to move on, to forgive myself.

Forget that. There's no way I can ever forgive myself, whether or not he does taken out of the equation. I messed up big time, and there's just no going back.

Unrequited love sucks.

A Family, Separated

I used to think my family was inseparable. Now, I know I'm wrong. No one in this world is immune to heartbreak and conflicts of the heart, and me and my family...well, we're no exception.

My dad's off in Maine, and the problem with that is that he isn't HERE, my bitchy sister just told my mother she's terrible at parenting and that she's always yelling at us (speak for yourself, Emily!!), and my mom is sitting in the car, crying, while I watch it all fall apart. I can't do it. I almost cried myself. Why is everyone in my family so intent on breaking us apart?

I kind of feel like my stomach's been ripped open and someone's carefully removing my heart and in its place putting in a mechanical, robotic heart, just so I can keep on going without the pain, go through life effectively numb.

God knows feeling nothing is better than feeling...this.

You've Got A Shitty Personality!!

I hate myself. No, I amend that statement. I hate myself for hating myself. I hate that I get mad at others and make them feel upset just to help myself feel better. I hate that through my depression I'm pushing others away by...not wanting them to get hurt. Which is ultimately pointless, since by my trying to keep them from getting hurt, I'm ultimately driving the knife in deeper.

I've been depressed before, and it's never been like this. Ever. It's always been just depressed, depressed, depressed, non-stop...or at least until something came along to fix it. But now I'm happy then furious then excited to bawling my eyes out, then overjoyed...and it leaves me wondering--how am I actually feeling? Because it can't be normal to be this up and down all the time.

Right?

And honestly, I'm not sure whether hoping for confirmation of my non-normalcy is hurting, or helping.

And every single time I drive someone else away from me, I can hear that voice from AOL Mail going: "You've Got...A Shitty Personality!!"

And truthfully, maybe I do. Maybe I'll be entirely alone before I ultimately hear the truth. Who knows? I sure don't.

One thing I do know is, I want to get better. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. I want the inner ache to go away.

Bottom line: I'll do whatever it takes. And if there's a God up there, I'll never use your name in vain again. Seriously. I swear.

I've Never Felt So Alone

There are some days that I wish had a do-over button. For instance, tonight. After the wickedly-hurtful/wickedly-awkward dinner conversation:

Sam: Good salad. Nice, light, healthy meal.
Mom: Mm.
Emily: (makes snarky comment)
Mom: So, Em, when are you going to stop being mad at me?
Sam: I think Em thought YOU were mad at HER!
Mom: Oh.
*Conversation automatically drifts to my best friend Brian*

Mom: So, is Brian always that lazy? That...disinterested?
Me: No! You just don't know him well enough yet. He's really a great guy, I promise--
Mom: Yeah, and he sat at dinner for, like, four minutes and then up and left.
Me: NO! I gave him a choice. Besides, he was sick, and I didn't want him getting sick germs all over you guys!
Mom: Well, he seemed pretty rude to me.
Me (head in hands): He's really a nice guy...
Mom: On the bright side, your social skills in comparison to his are outstanding!
Emily: Isn't that kind of a backhanded compliment?
Mom: Know what? I'm done. DONE. I'm going out to the kitchen where I won't bother you.
Me: But it WAS a back-handed compliment!
Dad: Katie, stop it. Just eat your dinner. (Translation: stuff food in your mouth and shut up.)
Me: I'm not doing anything!!
Dad: Don't you raise your voice with me, missy!!
Me: I'm not--
Dad: EAT YOUR DINNER.
Me (staring at dinner plate): Unh.
Me: Okay, I can't do this. (Gets up and leaves)
Dad: GET BACK HERE, RIGHT NOW!! DON'T DO THIS, KATIE!!

And so on and so forth...I feel like such a terrible, terrible, terrible person. It's like I can't stop shooting my fucking mouth off! Sam at one point was like, "Well, she did birth you," and when I said, "Sometimes I wish she hadn't" I meant it.

I feel like everyone would have been so much better off if I'd never been born. No lying, no stubbornness, no smart-alecking, no backtalk, no rudeness, no mean comments...

My family would have been so much happier. Is it too late to just die? Make the world a better place?

I'm sorry, guys. I can't do this anymore. I just can't.

The Sad Truth is, the Truth is Sad.

"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you." ~Elbert Hubbard

Really? Is that really true? Because I've had many 'friends' who turn out to be less than...loving. What I love is that the truth--which this person asked for in the formation of our friendship--is ironically the thing that drove us apart in the end. Isn't that funny?

No, not very funny at all. Another sad truth? I really think it's true, that a *romantic* relationship really does ruin a friendship. Unfortunately, once the truth is out there, the other person's feelings laying there on the table, how do you go back? Is that even possible? And is it better to have the other person pretend that what they said never was vocalized? To have that odd, strenuous tension stretching between you? A quiet abyss of the unsaid, hanging above you, tauntingly out of reach?

I wish that it hadn't happened, I really do. But you know what you could have had the decency to do? You could have told me how you felt about us...after the fact. Not went through our mutual friend because you were too scared of me to say the truth to my face? Really? Am I terrifying? Or am I just a reminder of what you screwed-up and can never get back?

We all make mistakes, you know. In fact, if you don't, you're probably not human. But the fault lies not in the mistake, it lies in the inability to admit to your wrongdoing. It's true...and yes, the truth often hurts, scars deeply, sometimes without ever healing...but what's the harm in trying? Trying to patch things up?

Truthfully, I think we were both screwed from the beginning. I don't know what I was thinking. But I can't do it with you. Not anymore. After these injuries I've acquired from your brashness? Yeah, I'm done. With you. With us. With whatever we had.

I'm done. With. Every. Single. Thing.

Now that it's out in the open, I can breathe again. Can inhale knowing the air I'm taking in isn't tainted with your influence, with your cold distance and unwillingness to talk to me.

Know what? You're not worth it. No friendship is worth it if in order to make it work, one person does everything.

I'm tired of it, and frankly?

I've never felt so fucking free.