The Hardest Part

First of all, I’m sorry. I know that there are children dying and that there are millions of people who have it so much worse than me, I know that my silly little problems really aren’t relevant if you’d compare them to the wars and famine in the world, and I know that my unhappiness is mostly my fault.

That said,

What I’m going through right now is so fucking hard for me.

 

The first one of those things is that I need to make so many decisions, I need to fix so many things and I need to build a future for myself. However, growing up without confidence (and I swear I’m not trying to blame it all on something other than my dumb self here, I know I’m probably just lazy) has damaged me so severely, that often I don’t even try to do something because I already feel like I won’t be able to do it – before I’ve even started. This sounds super vague, but what I mean is; I find it hard to start things like a job, or going to the gym, or keeping a bullet journal, or losing weight, or saving up, or keeping my bedroom clean; and I find it even harder to keep up with them, because I always think that I can’t do it, anyways, so I don’t really try to.

It’s such a bad habit, I know it is, and I’m truly trying to break out of it, but I swear, growing up without any self-esteem or confidence in myself, has really fucked me up in ways that I didn’t even know existed.

 

The second thing is that I can see what we had, falling apart. I can see that he’s falling out of love with me. To be brutally honest, I don’t know if he ever loved me in the first place. He says he does, and I know he believes himself, but I’m not sure if he knows what it feels like to love someone. Love should be passionate, love is supposed to hurt sometimes, love means wanting the best for someone. And I just don’t know if he has ever felt that way about anyone.

I listen to him making mean jokes about me that he brushes off as “just a joke”, even though I’ve told him so many times that I don’t find them funny. I watch him talk to people he likes about a subject that is of interest to him, and realise that it’s never like that between us anymore. I feel him letting go of my hand, slowly, one finger at a time, because I’m not what he wants; and he’s not what I want.

I don’t know if he has realised that yet, and if it hurts him the way it hurts me. I’m going on a holiday with him and his mother soon, and if I’m being completely, disgustingly real, I really want to see the city we’re visiting, which is one of the reasons I haven’t canceled it. But I also want another chance for us, even though my faith in our relationship fades a little more every day.

Seeing him, and hanging out with him, even though I know that we most probably won’t last, is tough. I often end up crying when he’s gone, because even though I’m pretty sure he’s not the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, it’s going to be really shitty to let him go. I love him, we have fun together sometimes, he’s sweet to me (mostly), and he’s been there for me (in his own kind of way) when no one else was.

 

I don’t know. Everything in my life is at a crossroad right now and I have no idea which way I’m supposed to go. I hope writing about the things that are on my mind might make them a little clearer.

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