There are parts of myself I still hate. No matter how far I come in life or how much I think I’ve grown, there are still parts of the little girl inside me that I hate with a passion.
I hate the part of myself that will drop everything for a 1% chance at winning. But not winning in the way you think. When I say winning, a lot of the time I’m referring to love, because if there is one thing I fail at exceptionally, it’s love. I can’t seem to find it, and sometimes I feel like I struggle to embody it.
Yesterday, I was tanning and got the chance to have a conversation with a past lover. Mind you, he did me really dirty. I wasn’t supposed to be where he was for at least another hour and a half, but I made it there in less than an hour. With every stride I took while getting ready—showering, getting dressed, and even driving—I kept fighting my body to slow down. I reminded myself of every reason he hurt me. I even parked in the lot and sat in my car for five minutes before I went inside, hoping he had already left when he said he would so I wouldn’t find him waiting for me.
I fought every fiber of my being to just slow the fuck down and blame it on timing, so I could tell myself we had simply missed each other entering and leaving the building.
Because why? For the love of God, why?
It’s been a year. He’s still dating the same girl. He never fucking apologized for hurting me. So why the fuck am I rushing to see him, hoping that maybe he’ll confess that he messed up and that he loves me? Why do I think that’s what I deserve? It’s so fucking sad.
I know it comes from my childhood—from the love I didn’t get from my dad and my mom abandoning me. So I cling to the 1% chance that it might be love, and then maybe I’ve won. Won at the game of love.
And I hate that about myself.
It’s not just him. It’s every man I’ve ever grown to like or developed any sort of feelings for. That’s why I actively try not to develop feelings for anyone, because I absolutely hate feeling like this. I feel powerless, and I hate the version of myself that comes out whenever the possibility of love appears.
I fucking sat outside a jail for over 14 hours to bail out the man who threw me down a flight of stairs.
So yeah, I’m a little fucked.
Because why in the hell do I think that’s love? And why am I so pitiful that I think that’s what I want?
I just wish I could win for once. But I also wish I never, ever had to have romantic feelings for anyone again.
They say love makes you blind, but I don’t think I’m in love with these men.
I think I’m just so desperate to be in love sometimes that it makes me blind.