Saturday, December 31, 2005
A little more than a month into this relationship, and I already feel that it's messing with me more than it should.
I admit it. Anything that causes a change in me is something that affects me more than it ought to. I don't know, I just don't like things to break my stride or force me to alter it in any way that I cannot fully control.
My greatest fear right now is one that has always bothered me: the fear that I am clingy, that I'm demanding, that I'm smothering him. I don't want to demand too much, I don't want to get de-boned simply because I now am a (diminutive feminine term)
girlfriend. I had this certain view regarding my single status for the longest time: that I want a boyfriend (i.e. someone to care for me, I'm a sucker for love and affection), but don't want to become a girlfriend (i.e. someone who goes to pieces when her man is not there; who screeches at the poor guy when he's late; who has no freedom simply because of a guy). Now I've taken a leap of faith, just praying hard that I don't regret it.
This whole thing happened so fast, I've been all swept up in the magic of it. He means something to me (hell, he means a lot. He means so so much), but I'm afraid, afraid of my reactions because he can affect me so goddamn much. I'm so afraid of what he thinks of me, yet I can't bear to ask for this reassurance, because I want to respect the privacy of his thoughts, and to trust him. He is dead honest about a lot of things, even if it does hurt me, as today has already demonstrated. Isn't this meant to be good? Well i guess. Herein, though, lies the paradox. I'm glad he is so devastatingly honest. At the same time, when he talks about stuff like
that I freak out. I keep quiet, sure, but my mind buzzes with questions.
Is he having doubts? Has he changed his mind? Has the thrill of the 'newness' worn off, and he found that he doesn't really like me so much? I hate myself for giving him so little credit as a person, because I know he isn't someone like that, but it's almost like there's an awful buzzer that goes off in my head, and then I just go *
whoopee* off on some psychotic interlude. Get me my pills, man.
I guess you could say that I don't doubt him, just that I doubt myself. Low self-esteem? You don't say, honey. I can't believe that issues I have with myself are just turning around to slap me in the face again. That thing from two years a...don't tell me it's always gonna be coming back to bite me on the nose. Sometimes this just hurts so damn bad.
**dream until you die**10:37 PM
