UrbanDecay13 , 20

I'm making things better, one step at a time.
Or possibly I'm making things worse.
But I'm making them, which is all that really counts.
I've just gotta figure it out.
And under the veil of everything that Port Saint Lucie now represents in my life, I don't know if I'll be able to truly figure anything out while I'm still here.
Everything aches.
And I can't quite understand it yet. Or maybe ever.
Maybe I'll just have to take this year and compartmentalize it among all the other years and all the other shit that's gone on and just chalk it up to a good time and let it be.
And maybe I'll look back and I'll just remember the good. I won't remember the anguish and the pain and the way that it all feels.
Because sometimes it's all rather just too much for me to handle. And I slip and slide and falter and land weeks in the past, not able to breathe right or think about anything without being reminded of everything that was, and everything that should have been.




I'm broken.
I guess I always knew I was a little broken.
It's just maybe I'm more broken now than I was on December 31st.


I don't want to cry but sometimes it's all I've got. And even if it's terrible and selfish and wrong, I just cry and cry and it just doesn't matter.
No one ever knows and I cry until I can't anymore and then I'm maybe sometimes a little bit better. 

Back in December of 2009, I wrote an entry about my life, my year, my college experience, and my need to protect myself.
Oddly enough, or rather, normal enough, I suppose, in the first hours of 2010 I was already making decisions that would lead to my eventual break down(s!) of the new year.
It's all just so ironic to me now.
I know exactly what gets me hurt.
I know that people break my heart.
I know that I cling onto things that never were, or things that are long since gone.
I choose the wrong people to love.
And sometimes, it's all just too much for me to handle.


I love Jonathan.
There. I said it.
I told him as much, too. In a text message. That he didn't answer.
Maybe the last message he'll ever get from me.
How pathetic am I?

But I know it's the truth.
I wasn't sure if I could say it to him, or if I even should have, since by that time we already weren't talking, and it doesn't change a damn thing anyways.
But I hurt less now that I've said it.
I don't cry at the thought of him.
I'm not entirely happy.
I wouldn't dare say that I'm content.
But I'm doing...alright.
I hurt. It still hurts. And I suppose it will hurt for a long time.
I don't know when I'll stop comparing every guy I meet to Jonathan. Or when I'll be able to text another guy late into the night and not forget that it's not Jonathan on the other end of my messages.
I don't know when I'll stop thinking of what Jonathan would say, or wishing that I could watch old movies with Jonathan. Or when I'll stop hearing Jonathan pick movies apart in my head.
I don't know if a time will ever come when he's not present in my mind.


But I've done all I can, short of moving back here and giving up my life to be with him.
And that's never something I wanted to do.
I can pinpoint the moment I fell in love with Jonathan, even though I didn't know it at the time.
But I also know that the love I have for him is a selfish love, as selfish as love can be, anyway.
I never wanted to give up what I already have to be with Jonathan. I just happen to be able to picture him very will in my future with me, the future that I've already imagined for myself.
I can see him traveling with me, marrying me, having a home and a family with me. But just because I can fit his face over the nameless man that I'll someday have a life with, doesn't mean that we're meant to be together.
And yes, I still hope that someday, we get our time, and I hope that things work out for the best between us.
But I also know that love can't be selfish if it's going to work.
I'm slowly coming to terms with this whole mess that is my life right now.
I'm doing my best, and that's all I can expect from myself.


I will be fine. 

I just have to remember that I will be fine.
I will be.




 I'm trying not to be childish and I don't want to cry everyday or every other day or EVER. But I don't know how to stop feeling like I'm missing a vital organ or a limb or something.
Some large extension of me is gone.
And I hate being melodramatic.
And I never ever in my life wanted to sound like a lovesick dumb bitch who doesn't have her shit straight.
And I'm afraid that's what I sound like. And it makes this all that much worse.
Because he probably never really cared.
And so once again I picked bad company and I let him hurt me, like others before him, and now I'm upset because I went and let it all happen.
Does there come a point where I just shouldn't even be allowed to be upset about these things anymore?
I mean, I practically keep doing it all to myself.



I just don't want this to be the pattern of my life.
I don't want to leave my heart in shattered pieces in a line behind me, like bread crumbs. Because I'm sure if I turn around to follow the path home, to who I was once, before I'd been hurt, I will never be able to find all the pieces again, if any at all.

This just hurts. It hurts and I don't know what to do or how to make it stop or how to be the person I was before I met Jonathan. I was happy back then. I was.
"Before I met you I was F I N E fine."
And "Of all the bars in all the world."
And "Why goodbye, not good luck?"
And every other thing he ever said to me ever.
As if he were from another decade.
I cared about him as much as I've ever cared about anyone, and...and nothing. And that's all I've got. And it's not much, and it's not enough and it's all I'll have.
And I'll just have to be okay.


I will be fine again.
Maybe not now, or in the near future, or even when I'm still in Port Saint Lucie with the ghost of the short relationship that we did have hanging over my head like fog in the early morning.
And maybe every time I come back here I'll just be reminded of him and what he means to me (meant to me?).
But I will be okay.
Because this is what I do.



I let people break my heart, and then I piece things back together and maybe it's all a little crooked and misshapen and everything's in the wrong place, but I put it all back together nonetheless, and I'm okay. Every time.

I'm not sure if you know just how ironic this all is.
The day when I had to leave Jonathan and go back to school, all those months ago, the only thing I could think was "why now?" "why me?" "why ever?"
I didn't find it fair that I would find a guy I liked so much after just those 2 weeks with him, while I was back home, of all places.
It was just too ironic.
Something to tie me to this place that I never loved. A place where I grew up but a place that I hardly ever really called home.

And then he broke my heart. Twice? I don't even know.
The second time, I just let it happen. Because I couldn't wait around for him to do it himself, for real.

And now, I'm home again. And he's been a douchebag. But now he wants to see me. And I find myself asking, "why now?" "why me?"
Seeing him tomorrow, it doesn't change anything.
He's going to want to fall back into whatever familiar pattern we had before. But the truth is, he's not man enough to make this work with me.

What does "I've got a girlfriend now, but she's not you" mean?
That's just not something you say.
If you want to be with me, be with me.
Don't lie to me.
Don't like another girl better than me, or more than me.
Be a man.



I've recently realized three things, not all related.
1. Threats don't work on me. I don't want to do anything more or better or work harder if you give me an ultimatum.
2. You can lie without ever saying a word. Don't lie to me. End of story.
3. I can't be with someone who isn't secure enough to have a long distance relationship. At the very least, I'll be going abroad junior year, to Italy or London or Ireland or Australia. Somewhere far and across wide oceans. Then, I'm going places with my life. There's a chance I'll live abroad, or at least have a job that makes me go far away sometimes. And if you can't handle that, we have no business being together. End of story.

So don't lie, and be a man.
That's really all I ask.




The entire Jonathan ordeal feels like another lifetime. Like it wasn't even me.
And seeing him tomorrow doesn't change anything.
It doesn't change the fact that he lied. That he really did break my heart, whether it was my fault or his, it's irrelevant. He did it, and I can't forgive him so easily for that.
And I was doing fine without him. Every once in a while he came into my mind, but I was okay.
I haven't had feelings for another guy in 5 months. Five months exactly tonight at around midnight.
But god. Nothing changes tomorrow.

I'll never live in PSL again. Ever. This next three months is probably the most I can take anyways. I'll never be here again for more than a few weeks, or days, at a time.
And then after that, like I said, I'm going places. I want a crazy and love-filled and interesting and ridiculous life full of good experiences and travel and I can't put up with this bullshit.



So, like Marissa commanded a month and a half ago when I was letting my heart break again, I'm just going to "be happy."

Because that's all I've got.
And like I said when Jonathan first decided to start talking to me again after the first time he stopped talking to me, I'm not going to let him affect what I've got going on for me.

Sometimes, the only thing left to do is to break your own heart.
Sometimes that's all you can do to maintain your own sanity, to preserve your own life.
And sometimes, it's enough.
Enough for you to survive.
Enough to maintain your belief that the world is good.
Enough to stop you from hating him. Because it's a thin line between love and hate.
Enough to get you through the day. And the next.



As much as I hurt, I'm going to be okay.
Because this is what I do.
My heart is broken, and then I'm okay.
As much as it hurts, I'm always okay.
And someday, someone is going to not break my heart. 



As much as I hurt, I still find that I'm happy.
And that's something I wasn't expecting.
So I'm going to be fine.
I'm going to cry when I'm alone, and I'm going to miss him every minute.
But this is life.
Shit happens.