Tuesday, July 6

All I can offer you.

I find all of this absolutely abhorrent. I can’t stand it when we fight, let alone to this point. And I can’t stand it when I’m still pissed.

I suggested what I did, simply because it hurts me so bad each day that I am not with you, that I don’t know if knowing there’s no us would hurt more. Every day that I wake up, it feels like more and more of me is missing. I go through my days, completely absent minded, oblivious, and impersonal. And on days like today, the only thing that echoes through my head is our arguments. Your pissed off voicemail from earlier. All of these things make it all just so much worse. And then we talk. And the tension level hits the roof, because you’re upset about who knows what and I’m upset about something else, and we just take our frustrations out upon each other. And its making me physically sick. Between all of this with my mom, and all of this with you, I’m getting sick. And I haven’t told you because I know it will just give you something more to worry about (sure, get pissed off at me, but there’s lots of things you withhold from me, so I think we are in the clear,) and I know you worrying will just affect your blood pressure, your attitude, and will just make you more depressed. I’m down to 123 on weight. That’s 8 or 9 pounds since I’ve left Santa Barbara. I’m constantly dizzy and fatigued, and I’m totally depressed. So things aren’t so great up here either.

And I know you feel like life is shitty down there, but seriously, its not. You are in a beautiful place, you are lucky enough to be learning at a good school, you have a family that loves you, a girlfriend that adores you (not that that matters, or so it seems,) and you are free to do essentially what you want. The doors are open. All you have to do is walk through them, and see all of the opportunities that await you. But I can’t push you through that door. I can’t make you see all of this. I can’t make you do anything. It’s not that I want to control you or make you do something, but I do just want to make you happy. And I just keep failing.

So I’ve failed. It’s not the first time. I’ve gotten “F’s” before, and I’ve failed in many relationships. But never before has it meant so much to me as all of this. And it hurts even more knowing I can’t do a damn thing about it. So I don’t know what to tell you. We’re both at a stalemate, waiting for the other person to make the next move. The only problem is, both sides are out of moves.

I’m sick of being optimistic. I’m sick of trying to see the bright side of it all, and I’m sick of trying to cheer you up and myself at the same time. It just isn’t working anymore, because I can’t keep smiling for both of us; when it’s eating me up inside. I can’t hold in the tears anymore because I’m trying to be strong. So I give up. I guess I’m letting the heartache win, instead of the heart-warm.

I don’t want to be Andrea. I don’t want all of this to turn into your relationship with Andrea, and I don’t see how it could be, because in my eyes at least, I thought we had so much more. But apparently you don’t see that. You can’t see that. And I don’t know why. I don’t know how all of these miles can put such a haze upon things, how it can make it so difficult for you to see how good things are for us—even hours away. And I don’t know what I can do to make you see it, because each thing I try, just seems to hurt you more than before. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want to make you suffer, or piss you off, or enrage you. Because each time you get hurt, I hurt too.

So I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what else to offer you. Now, everything is on the table. You can choose what you want.

Either, wait it out and keep your chin up. Or walk away and find someone new and leave me behind. Its up to you. And like I told you before, I don’t like the idea of us breaking up. Never will. But if it’s what you decide (even though you say you could never do it,) then I will support you. Because that’s what I do. That’s what I love to do, even amidst it all, even amidst the worst decision ever, I would support you. Because that’s how much I care. So I don’t know what else to say. So I’m done. When you figure something out, be sure to let me know—my decision is already made. Until then, this is the last thing I’m going to say.


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