edited to add disclaimer: If you read this, please don't respond to it. There is no place else for me to put this, so I wrote it here. Like the title says, you will not understand it. This is not written for you. This is written for me.
I don't know how to love you anymore.
All I've wanted was for you to love me
and I realize now, that that day will never come.
you will never look at me and say you're proud of me
or that you love me
because you are not capable of saying those words.
Whatever it is you think I'm going through,
I'm going through way more than what I let on.
And I let on alot.
I let on alot because those are the things I *can* talk about.
They're not important. I know that they're not important,
but those are the elements I can control, that I can think about, and hash out out loud until I find a way to bend myself around & make it work.
for once, in my life,
I would like for someone to stop telling me to man up
& that I'm overreacting because everything is going to be okay.
I, for once, would like to stop being patronized for going crazy over
"the little stuff"
I KNOW that there are people in MUCH worse situations than I am.
I pray that those people have a better support system than I found in you.
For ONCE, stop acting like I'm petty and just acknowledge that I'm going through something. I am not other people. Don't judge me that way.
That is all I want. I KNOW that I'll adapt to whatever life throws at me. I've been fucking adapting since I was born, and I'M FUCKING TIRED OF IT.
All I want is for someone to look at me and NOT tell me I'm strong and I'll get through it. To NOT see a pity case. To NOT see a looney girl who doesn't know a good thing or can't appreciate one.
You don't have to save me. Not that you tried. I just need an ear to talk out loud to, to try to focus on one aspect of life and work it out. Your version of a pep talk sucks. Do you read me? I AM TIRED OF BEING THE STRONG ONE.
I just want someone to be able to acknowledge whatever it is I say I'm going through. Because no one yet has noticed that the bullshit I give on the surface has nothing to do with what I'm really scared of. I ramble because I can't put into words the things that actually bother me. I haven't studied the language yet that conjugates the images that my mind races through. I'm trapped in my throbbing head with headaches that don't go away and face people that don't get that I'm in pain, or that I haven't felt my arm in two weeks, and that I'm scared to death, and that I have no idea what is going to happen to me and I'm in a situation I have no control over and I'm terrified that everything is going wrong, and that at the end of every day, I wonder if I've just made the biggest mistake of my life. It's everything and nothing all at once; it's everyone and no one. Only one other time in my LIFE have I felt so helpless. I went through that time alone, and it looks like I've got to go through this alone as well.
But you don't care. So long as I sit there and do what you feel I'm supposed to, and not get on your nerves, or interfere, you're happy. That's not love. Yet you don't share with me what you feel I ought to know, and then we do our dance again, with me tripping up mines I didn't know existed, spending energy figuring out ways to make it up to you and get you to love me again.
I loved you the best I could. I tried, and today you made it clear that I will never and can never make you happy. So, I'll make it easy for you. I will never again mention anything that bothers me, because I'm just going to "be strong" and get over it anyway. No point mentioning it to anyone. I cannot love you anymore, because there isn't room. You hurt me just by looking at me. I was better when I walled myself up. But I made the mistake of opening up to you. Don't worry, my mistake. it won't happen again.
I don't love you anymore. I feel nothing now. It's a dull pain, like the one in my head. Don't worry, I'll still do my duty towards you, whatever that may be. I'll make sure you're okay, thought of, looked after, fed. But there's no love in it.
My love died. The tears that I'm shedding now are the last you'll never see.
I tried to make you happy.
But you already predicted that, didn't you.
I'd say it hurts to say goodbye to you, but you can't feel pain when you're dead inside.
I loved you. I really did. But I give up. And in the end, it feels like I'm more like you than I want to admit. And that scares me more. Not that I'll ever tell you about it.