Birthdays suck


I’ve always dreaded my birthday. the day before is fine, but the day itself is usually filled with sadness. A crazy amount, to be exact.

This year proved to be the worst. I thought after our trip, things would go well, we’d have learnt more about each other. We agreed to get to know each other better, and then slowly plan for the future, whatever it would bring. We’ve been through the good times, and I braced myself for the bad.

I didn’t expect ‘bad’ to mean, throwing it all behind and leaving before even things started. I cried my eyes out, pleaded for answers. I guess I can’t understand….

We’ve everything going against us. Age, language, the foggy future due to the other two factors. He told me he doesn’t think he can give me what I want, he doesn’t know what I want, how I’ll be able to find a guy better than him. Younger, smarter, richer… He didn’t want this relationship. He didn’t want me anymore. He kept saying he didn’t want me to be sad, that this would be better for me in the long run, and he knew, because he was older than me. And he said I was a good person, and that he’ll miss me.

It hurt. And it still does. But I’m not done with this, not just yet anyway. We’ve only just begun. Of course I was heartbroken, disappointed, that he wanted to walk away from it. I guess I’ll never understand why we even got together in the first place. I knew it’d be an uphill climb, but I’m not sure about him.

We’ve agreed to work things out slowly and tackle issues as they come. But something inside me still feels… broken. I’m afraid to say anything for fear that he’ll just decide to call it quits once again. It has been a crazy, crazy week where I’m quite a wreck. I’m jittery when he doesn’t respond, I’m jittery when he does (just in case he messages to tell me he can’t do it anymore). I check my phone to see if he has read my text, wondering if he has not just so he doesn’t need to deal with me.

In turn, I’ve become this weak, clingy shell of a woman who wants nothing more than to make things ‘ok’ again.

Is this what it’s like to live in fear, then? I’m afraid the next time we argue, I’ll get yet another text telling me he hates it when I’m sad because of him, and he can’t give me happiness. Wow, this fucking stings.

Truth is, words are cheap, and no amount of words could possibly even begin to express the confusion on my head. Why is he back with me, then? Because he couldn’t say ‘no’ enough, because he feels sorry for me?

I don’t know what can be done to ‘fix’ this looming anxiety… It’s really killing me inside but I don’t think anyone, even him, can fix it.

Happy 26th, char. </3

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