Anger vs Sadness

Instead of getting angry, I get sad instead.

A was telling me last night: Will you please stop thinking about yourself? Will you please step back and think about how I feel?

I can't be angry at him. I can only feel sad for myself. It could be worse.

Breakdown

Last night, I had another breakdown.

I knew he wouldn't hold my hand willingly, he would never put his arm around me, or hug me. He won't even let me kiss him to say thank you. He turned his head so I'll only kiss his cheek.

Alcohol mellowed me down after the 2nd glass of wine. And while in line for the food, I saw him texting someone and I saw a lot of emojis in the text. He never texts me with a lot of emojis. My heart broke again. I went quiet and mellowed some more. He noticed and offered to get me another glass of wine. I didn't want to at first, but what the heck. I was sad.

And then we went to a bar because I asked him to. And he got me another glass of wine. And while looking at the beach and the people and all the happy couples, I couldn't stop my tears from falling. And he noticed and he said we were going home.

I followed him back to the car. He didn't hold my hand. He didn't put his arms around me. He didn't hug me. I walked behind him. My head down.

In the car, I was crying. I was apologizing. For everything. For loving him, for leaving, for feeling the way I feel, for crying, for being jealous, for ruining a good day, for my hysterics. For everything. And he doesn't want to hear it. He was angry at me. And he gave me cigarettes. He gave me friggin cigarettes. I wanted to hurt myself with them. And I did. I filled my weak lungs with poison. And I continued to cry.

I told him a lot of my ugly thoughts. How I believe he hates because I'm a bad person. How he couldn't love me because I'm ugly and fat. How he doesn't like me because I'm not nice. And of course he would deny it.

His words:
"I thought we could just be friends."
"Do friends kiss? Do you kiss your friends?"
"You're a special person. Do I hate you? No. Do I love you? No."
"I'm not ready to love anyone right now."
"I'm sorry I had sex with you. I didn't think you'd take it this way."
"Stop. You're making everything miserable."

And he asked me: "What do you need?"
I said: "You. I need you. I need you. I love you and I need you."

He said: "You don't love me. You don't even know me."

And that's where he's wrong. That's when my heart calmed down. Because he's wrong. I may not know every little detail of his life, but I know him. I know him with every little detail of mine.

And I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to show more emotions. I wanted him to finally be honest with me. Again. I wanted to threaten him. I wanted to make him worry. I wanted him to care about me.

So he drove me home. And I walked away. And he never followed me. Which I knew he would never do. And I died last night. A part of me died.

How many times will I have to feel parts of me die from loving someone who doesn't care one bit about me? It's a sad life.