As I continued to search through my past entries, I became amazed at some of them, Some (most) were drenched in such pain. A lot of times, they took me right back into the moment. The hardest entries to read were those referring to Glenn. The whole situation took place before I knew most people that currently read my journal. I basically fell so in love with him that I didn’t know what to do with myself. While reading those entries, I was truly amazed by my honesty and the depth of emotions in those posts. It was then when I realized that my journal really hasn’t been too good lately. And by that, I mean that when I look back on these entries, will I truly be able to feel exactly what I was feeling at the time.
While reading about Glen, I fell madly in love with him again, an emotion my body had almost forgotten. I felt the anger at the unrequited nature of this love. I felt the pain of unfairness. I cursed again at the jealousy. I laughed at how far gone I was to the world, my head in the clouds of love. I thought of posting a couple of these journals, but somehow it didn’t seem right. Instead, I thought I’d share a couple paragraphs.
I have memories in this house. Bent over on the floor of the living room, uncontrollable, crying and spitting onto the carpet because the first love of my life had no interest in me. Losing my virginity for the first time. Moving out on my own for the first time. Moving back, a failure. Moving out to live with my failure instead of my parents. Thrashing everything in my room at three in the morning, drunk, because I heard Dan was dating someone.
I felt this showed off the honesty with which I used to write in my journal. I wrote that paragraph when I was feeling depressed after I first met Glenn, and instinctually knew he would never feel the same way about me.
Glenn could do this for me, emotionaly, if not anything else (edit: this was referring to me trying to find someone to take care of me). And I hate the fact that its just not in him to feel that way about me. I’m pretty sure he likes me, and wants to hang out with me. But I want the passion whereas he shows up on my doorstep, in tears, begging me to love him. This isn’t asking too much of him, he’s done that to someone before, his hardest unrequited moment. I hate that friend now, because he had a love I’ll never know.
So, I hate Glenn for not loving me. Is that wrong? But in my hate, I feel the need to spend every moment with him, because thats when I don’t feel the pain of loving him.
*sigh* … I don’t know, maybe I should have reposted the whole story, because I’m not sure this paragraph captures everything. I just love the honesty here, and while reading it, my screen practically dripped with my pain. But I was there, I felt it…perhaps it doesn’t translate for everyone else. As an aside…Glenn really did have a moment where he showed up on a man’s doorstep and declared his love…but was rejected. Interestingly enough, I have a date planned with that man for next week.
I believe it was about two weeks after I wrote this post, that I stopped hanging out with Glenn. I decided it was too hard, and if you read the month or so worth of posts, you’d realize how hard this was for me, and how important it was for me to do that. I didn’t see him again till about three weeks ago. We barely spoke…just a quick hello, an introduction to his boyfriend, and off we went…on our separate paths.
The whole point is that my entries used to live and breath my energy. To read my journal was to know me, and I’m afraid that I’ve lost that quality. So I made a promise to myself to write more often, and to be more often.
Well…I think the real problem is that I only write when I’m depressed. I’m rarely depressed anymore.
ok…I promise…no more posts about past journals for a long long time (probably about a year).
Leo
