Sit Still.

I feel sick. Like the can't eat, don't really want to move kind of
sick. I'm inexplicably angry and upset. I figured crying might do me
some good but nothing comes out no matter how hard I try. When I
dropped him off at his house this morning he kissed me goodbye and
shut the car door. It was then that I declared, I don't love you, and
momentarily, even though he didn't hear it, it provided me some sort
of vindication. Because all of the sudden I feel empty and used. And
there's no reason for feeling that way but I can't help it. Maybe
he'll come back, maybe he won't and what does it matter to me anyway.
The coming years hold only the unknown.

As my mom says, I can concentrate on meeting some handsome billionaire
since I now know that this whole love thing is awfully messy,
generally fleeting, and therefore unnecessary for sustained happiness.
I don't think she is kidding about that either.

I am tired of thinking about this, about him, about whether or not he
really likes me or ever did or ever will. Or if he kept me around
because I live close, am not offended by late night requests for
favors, I don't complain, I am agreeable, I don't get jealous, I like
everyone and everything, the word no is absent from my vocabulary, I
sleep naked, I don't require romance, I don't require gifts, I sometimes wear
skimpy clothing, and other things like that. Then that makes me think
of why I kept him around, for which there are many reasons of course
and a lot of them happen to be similar to those above. But I liked him
from the moment I met him and I told him that the first time he slept
over, the time he said he'd like to have sex but was going to wait
because it was the right thing to do and then I laughed and took off
his pants.

He will be hard to replace and I feel sorry for whoever comes along
next because in my head I will always be comparing you to him and
while that is unfair I really can't help it because I'm going to miss
the way he looks at me and how when he sleeps he keeps his hand on my
ass and how he pets my head like I am a dog and holds my face in his
hands when he kisses me. This would be a lot easier if he was leaving
because I fucked up or if he fucked up. Because I feel like I failed
even though there was never anything I could do or wanted to do to
stop him. Maybe he should tell me that he hates me, then at least I'd
have something, a reason to forget about him. I don't have any reasons
and for that, he'll sit perfectly on a pedestal in my mind and make me
unhappy forever.