| Current mood: |  complacent |
| Current music: | Ima Robot - What are we made of |
My Beautiful Mistake
Everyday I try to celebrate the time we had instead of regretting that it ended. It doesn't work. I end up thinking about why we stopped, and then that moves on to me thinking about who she's with now, and then I start thinking that a) she had people lined up while we were still together, or b) she was with other people. Now, while it was assumed beforehand that this could/may end up the case, I have no reason to be angry (you read: crushed). But I am. And I'm not sure why. I think that I had deeper feelings for her than I led everyone, myself included, to believe. And when I found that she had quite literally none past friendship for me, it was like falling on a pole and having it go through my abdomen. Now I am walking around with a hole in my abdomen. Hindsight is always 20/20, and I know now that I should not have even gotten involved. I knew that night I shouldn't have gotten involved. Or maybe I'm deluding myself, but I digress. It was a mistake. A very large and grevious mistake. One that I fear may injure our relationship. However, the nature of the beast has not yet presented itself. I still hang out with her and the group, and during those times, save Saturday night, I feel no ill-will towards her. I find her company quite nice. As soon as I leave though, my thoughts turn to her treachery. I begin to feel sick, and start losing focus of real life. It's as if my mind falls into a black hole of thought, and nearly nothing can help me to escape from it. Kids, I apologize for the next sequence of words I'm about to put together. I promised myself two things at the beginning of this...essay. I would not mention her name, and I wouldn't end up describing my mentality, in any way, big or small, as depressed. However, it's as if I fall into short bouts of depression. I lose all will to live for right around fifteen minutes, and have been lucky so far as to be restrained from doing anything rash. I stop eating for days at a time, and despise almost everything around and about myself. I lose all self-esteem and look in disgust at the mirror everytime I see one. Funny how a girl could invoke such feelings from me. But apparently they have had plenty of practice. I feel bipolar, and as for now, I'm going to go read a book that doesn't quite qualify as anything like a book. Rather, it's a way for relieving my bipolarity.
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