There's this guy... For now I'll call him Dan. As of late, I've been becoming painfully aware of the fact that I think I love him. Which is a whole lot more crap than it sounds.
Dan is the most volatile, enigmatic, weird, insane, amazing dickhead I've ever met. He changes his tune as often as his clothes, I can't ever really know what he's thinking, he messes me around all the motherfucking time because he knows I'll always go back for more like a weak little puppy, he lies to me, he promises he'll stop hurting me but I know he never will - these are honest facts, as much as I hate them, but they fade into insignificance when he pays attention to me and stops being a dick for a short while. Why is this?
If it isn't obvious enough, I'll spell it out; I don't know why I'm so drawn to him. There's no denying it, he's nice to look at - but there's no way in hell anyone can be hurting so badly over something that's only skin deep.
Roy Orbison said that love hurts - and, "like a stove, burns you when it's hot". It's true. Every time I think I'm happy on my own, something happens and I end up turning into his bitch yet again. Sometimes I wonder when I'm going to have the balls to end this constant cycle of friends -> attraction -> more than friends but not quite enough -> fighting -> awkward -> barely friends -> friends - but most of the time I'm avoiding confronting the fact that the only way for the cycle to end is to remove him from my life - for now, at least, an unthinkable option. Not even considerable for a minute. It can't be a coincidence that the times I'm at my most happy are when we're more than friends, still in those blissful first days of seeming paradise, before he does something to piss me off and I confront him and immediately regret it but know I need to grow a spine so refuse to take any of it back and he says/does things and I get more angry and dig myself into a deeper hole and he ends up furious at me while I'm banging my head against a brick wall, literally despising myself for ruining everything yet again, rendering any backbone-therapy useless in my refusal to blame anyone but myself.
We're currently hovering somewhere between the fights and the awkwardness, and this time really does hurt more than the others - because, instead of being interested in making up asap like he usually is [despite how I've managed to portray him thus far, I'm pretty sure he's a good man who does genuinely care about me... or maybe that's just the pathetic submissiveness talking], he's busy in the early stages of dating someone else. Call me selfish, because I know I am, but even though knowing he's happy usually makes me happy too, I can't help but resent both of them to the point where I know I'm miserable and bitter to be around and should really let it go before it consumes me completely - but is that something I can hope to control when I feel my heart breaking a little bit more with every passing day I know he's talking to and laughing with someone who isn't me? When I know [or just deliriously hope] I'm a million times better for him than anyone else he's ever going to meet? When a tiny tiny tiny part of me is convinced that he loves me too?
I suppose the wisest thing for me to do now would be to slap some sense into myself, even if I continue to wish with all my heart for him to drop everything and come to me begging for forgiveness he's unsure I'll give him, saying he'll stop being a bastard because I make him want to stop being one. Because I'd say all that and more if I knew he wouldn't stop speaking to me. I wish, so much, he could enter into my head for one day, just to see himself through my eyes and realise how much he means to me.
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