I don't know how I always fall for the same type of relationship. The give and take. The passion, the excitement. At some point we share a dream, we share a love, and eventually I share my heart.
I think I've confirmed that I'm attracted to the broken. Maybe my own scars and baggage feel less obvious and heavy when I'm loved by someone who carries the same. I love those who are struggling and take it on as my own.
I want to help you! Don't you hear me? I want to support you! Don't you see me? I want to love you! Don't you feel me? And then... My past. My baggage takes over and suddenly I'm slipping. The conflict comes, as it inevitably does. I'm scared I'll lose you. I'm scared I'll say the wrong thing, and that will be it. I'm scared this fight will be the reason you walk. I'm scared this argument will be the final straw.
Jamie is over and where can I turn? Covered with scars I did nothing to earn. Maybe there's somewhere a lesson to learn. But that wouldn't change the fact, that wouldn't speed the time, once the foundation's cracked, and I'm still hurting.
What am I doing? Why am I fighting? Why am I apologizing when you hurt me? Why am I saying I'm sorry when you lied and broke my heart? Of course it's a 2 way street. Of course I've made mistakes. I've hurt you. I've made you mad. But I never gave up on you. I never gave up on us, never gave up on who you were. Who you were to me.
Why do I think you won't stay? Why am I scared this fight will be it? Why does conflict or your lack of responses terrify me? This is why. Somehow I knew. Someday I couldn't help you anymore. Someday I would be old news. You would use me just like everyone else did. Maybe even more so. And I'll have loved you, and I'll let you. And then... And then, the conclusion no one is surprised to read.
People tell me that you care about me. You love me. You just can't love me enough. Can't love me the way I need you to. Can't be there, can't care for me. You've communicated you can't do these things. The expectations are too high. You could never reach my standards.
Jamie arrived at the end of the line. Jamie's convinced that the problems are mine. Jamie is probably feeling just fine. And I'm still hurting.
I can offer to change. I can try and change. Change expectations. Stop caring so much. Be okay that you don't care that much. I can smile. I can laugh. I can sweep my hurts under the rug.
I don't know what happened. Or I do. Maybe I do. I lost myself and I let you become a big deal. I gave things to you I can never get back. I ignored the obvious signs of destruction, I ignored my heart. I ignored the pain as you hurt me. I drew closer in a desperate attempt not to lose what I had let become a real part of my life. You had become part of my mold. You were comfortable. An ear. A laugh. Arms to curl up in. You became right to me. I watched you slip right out of my fingers and run after something else. Someone else. Yet I continued to extend my hand. I wrapped my arms around you as you wept, as you vented.
Oh, how I loved you.
Today is day 4. They say it takes 21 days to break an addiction. My heart hurts as I feel myself care less and less. Distance increases and the time in between our conversations grows longer and longer. I left the ball in your court with no expectation for a return.
Who are you? What happened to you? When did you stop caring about me? When did I just become an object, someone unworthy of love and respect? When did you stop caring about me?
At some point, someday, somehow... You have to give up.
Jamie is over and Jamie is gone. Jamie's decided it's time to move on. Jamie has new dreams he's building upon. And I'm still hurting.
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