Mr. V was the first I decided to let in. He became very good at making me feel inadequate. He had a heavy baggage of his own. Misunderstanding played a part in whatever relationship we almost had. Lack of experience was also very good at making it all wither.
Mr. C was the second one that wasn’t really available. I’m good at choosing the unavailable types. He was way nicer but still equally able to indirectly hurt. He was better looking and sweeter. Still never really there or willing to make it work.
Mr. B was the one that hurt the most. He was the one and only that seemed to want to be it. He let me be myself. He encouraged me to be better and seemed to want to stick around. It turns out a lot of what he said wasn’t true. I still have a hard time forgetting everything he never said.
The others are only pieces of men, mostly boys actually; there’s a huge difference. They also left a mark. Some of them were very straightforward. Others were very good at trying to play me.
The opposite sex altogether has been intense, crazy, misunderstood, annoying, passionate, indifferent and almost any adjective you could think of. I’m done trying to define them as good or bad. It has been what it has been and I have been officially pushed into me. The time has come for me to embrace myself. Trying to figure them out or make it work is possible but exhausting.
I still find myself not being me whenever I like him and I hate that. I want to stop that. I think enough has happened that I know better than that. At first, against my will, I had to embrace being on my own. I had to tell myself it didn’t matter. But it does matter and it always will.
Now I’ve been pushed into me. And because I love what I have found, I smile. It has to be an odd combination of having enough experiences, feeling comfortable enough with who you’ve become and a balance between caring but letting go. Believe me, I know how complicated it sounds but it isn’t that much. It just is. You have to enjoy your own company and if you genuinely do, anybody who has to be in your life, will be. Holding on is a dirty little habit, but if you can somehow break it, you’ll be free. Freedom is worth fighting for.
I have been pushed around enough to fall into myself and I’m OK with that. The imperfections are incredibly obvious but beautiful. Going out without expectations seems like the greatest success. And believe me, I care. I do still care but I just cannot hold on anymore. If he leaves, that’s fine…I can get through it. If he stays, that’s great. I just have to be content with where I am, with who I’ve become and with what is. The rest is just too much for me to handle, it’s not even my business.