Sunday, July 10, 2011

Ramblings of a Broken Heart

I'm sitting here in an empty apartment and there's mixed emotions to that. There's this fear, similar to what I can only assume a child feels when they know they're doing something their parents will disapprove of yet they do it anyway. There's this sense of relief and serenity to the sound of the utter quietness and the time to my thoughts without having to be asked for at least a few hours how I am or how I'm feeling or what hurts today. There's this anxiety that makes me want to crawl back in bed and just sleep or read a book just in case something does happen and therefore I'll be less likely to cause any harm. There's this rebellion that wants to get dressed, grab my keys, turn the music up loud, drive to the airport, point to a place, buy a ticket and never look back. Write a note and tell the only person that really, truly cares how desperately I'll miss her and how much I love her. That I'd send her money every week. Somehow, some way still take care of her but I just couldn't do all of this anymore.
Why am I crying right now? Can't I be done crying? Of course not. Because above all, empty apartment or not, it's this emotion that kills me every day. My brain tumor won't destroy me. I actually feel stronger after the biopsy. Though who knows how long I'll go symptom less. It's this overwhelming sense of loneliness that will kill me. That's killing me now. I'm missing a part of my heart. And I hate it because I can't do anything about it.

I'm the kind of girl that would do anything for you. Really. But I'm imperfect. I lose my patience. I get annoyed when you're not on time, I don't like huge displays of public affection, I don't let things go, I'm too sensitive, I'm shy and awkward. I have more flaws than good qualities. I have little quirks that may annoy you. Like how I can't mix up my food. Or you can never buy me a necklace because I will not wear it. Sorry, but my crucifix isn't coming off. Or how I hate sitting completely on chairs unless I'm sitting Indian style on them (though yes, I can be proper when I need to be). I like ketchup on my steak and actually, won't eat it any other way. I hate onions so very much. When I run I have to count to 10 repeatedly in my head. I'm way too competitive. You can't talk to me or make me feel better when my teams lose a game. Especially a playoff game. Sorry just how it is. My work with the teens will come before everything. I love music. All types of music. But country will always win. I'm needy in certain ways. I need a certain level of attention. For example, I don't need to be communicated with every second of the day. But a two text conversation won't fly with me. I'm insecure. I need to feel like you actually want to talk to me. Feel like you miss me. Another example has to do with my self esteem. It's no secret that I have trouble looking in the mirror and even slightly appreciating the person staring back at me. I need to feel beautiful. And I'm not even talking about to the world or to myself. I need to feel beautiful to you. Then there's the big one. The one that everyone fails. Well, almost. I need to be reassured. And it's sadly an every day thing. Reassured that you love me and you won't walk away. You won't abandon me.
Maybe I should post a want ad:
Searching for a deeply devoted practicing Roman Catholic who can put up with me. I'm not trying to be picky, but it would be amazing if you could play a sport, in particular baseball. Romantic, please? Because I'm dying to be swept off my feet. Come on baby. Let's seek Heaven together.

But who am I kidding? The truth hurts.

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