Monday, March 26, 2012

it's a champagne year full of sober months

If you say it is, then I guess it is. 

Well so I talked to Ben today. More like, he forced me into talking to him. He's been chasing me around, asking me if he can talk to me to clarify what he was saying. I share my life on this blog and so I shall list a few of the comments that he made to me. And I say a few because I can't remember everything that he said to me. 

He said an awful lot. 

He said that he really likes me. 
My personality, my style, even the way I smell. 
That he's liked me for a while now, nearly a year and a half, and that he's always thought I'm cute. 

It's like playing poker. He's laid his hand out for me to see. 
In it is the ace of hearts. 
What happens now is up to me. I can choose to play on. Or to fold. 

It's like a line taken straight from some trashy teenage novel. I want to pinch myself because I cannot believe real people actually ever talk like that. Part of me still doesn't believe it. My sense of denial must run pretty deep for me to doubt the plausibility of something that has already happened. 

I tell him that there is a lot of shit in my life. In my head, I silently list them. Eating disorder. Low self esteem. Depression. Anxiety. Self harm. Attachment disorder. Body dysmorphic disorder. Suicidal ideation. I tell him that I think it's unfair for me to drop him in the middle of so much shit. And that he can't possibly understand the magnitude of shit that I'm talking about. 

He tells me that he wants to put up with the shit.
Is it worth it to put up with so much shit for me? Yes it is. 
But only if I think it's worth it. 
He tells me to take my time to think about it. Everything at my pace. 

Uneasiness wells up inside my chest. I already know that I cannot do this. It is all far too much. It is all far too overwhelming. I cannot deal with this. Not Ben. Not now. There really is too much shit. Too much for me to deal with. Too much for me to express to someone. 

I thought that once this day came, I would be relieved. Relieved to have someone who truly likes me and wants to be with me and to look after me. But I am just filled with fear. All consuming fear. I cannot handle it. There is too much fear. I cannot trust him. I cannot trust myself. And now I'm stuck. 

1 comment:

  1. heeeeeeeeey. i'm just thinking about you. your flu thing was right. the fever ish gone but my headache is insane. so i'm at home. :D thank you, Doctor for the diagnosis x
    holy shit. can you imagine anyone's legs being that tiny? ...dude. i'd die if i had legs like that. i'd never stop having sex.
    i still can't believe your starting weight is MY low-weight.
    i can only understand the anxiety and the ED. from what i always thought, i had some sort of weird form of OCD, but that's insane. not because i follow the stereotype of 'i'm not neat so i don't have OCD', it's more because i can't detect what's my trigger, nor can i detect what makes me think i have OCD. i think i have an obsession with numbers. my anxiety spurs when i don't know the numbers. whether it's scale, weight, grades, servings (mostly centered around food or the idealistic grade and perception of that) - the numbers cause my anxiety. either my intake is too high, grade is too low, just the number. my anxiety is totally linked to disappointing people. which is weird. i know even if i had a 22-inch waist or something, i wouldn't give a damn because i'll probably weigh 'too high' for a girl with that kind of measurement. that's it. i don't think i'm fat in terms of the mirror as much as i do think i'm fat in terms of the numbers on the scale. i think that if i weigh a certain number, get a certain grade - i'd stop disappointing people.
    that's weird, eh?
    that sounds like a God, not a do you feel about him though? if you feel like you shouldn't be with him, that's a clear-cut sign for me.
    if you think you can't handle it, you have the right to tell him so. it's your life. and you're allowed to choose whose in and whose out!
    -Sam Lupin