Sorrow Drips Into My Heart Through A Pinhole

I'd like to say that the Romantic in me, for the most part, has died. But every now and again, I see her lurking in the corner or sulking as we cross the street and sometimes I wonder if maybe she's just lonely.

I think it's safe to say that I used to be a jump-right-in-and-give'er type of gal when it came to relationships, but after the winter from hell 04-05, I really don't think that's the case anymore. I'm definitely choosing to err on the side of caution here and it has apparently led to some undesirable changes in my relationship persona. Which is unfortunate, especially for the boy that was trying to put up with me for a while. He did a good job though, and still is - I think he deserves a medal.

I'm going to tell y'all right now that Adam William is pretty damn wonderful. But do what I could, every now and then, I went Ice Queen on him. And I wish I could say something other than, "It's because I've been really hurt before and my heart puts up a wall because I never want to go through that again and now I'm so afraid of commitment and I can't do this relationship thing anymore" because we all know that's LAME-O because because because. It's lame. Even I couldn't break through those walls and for a while, I really thought I could. Heck, for a while, I even thought they were down.

Alas, after a full week of gut-wrenching, tear-inducing, tough-decision-making phone calls, I said to him, I can't do this anymore. But ah, being the wise gentleman that he is, he corrected me: No no, you don't want to do this anymore. It's a fine line, ladies and gents, but it exists. He's right you know - if I wanted it, I would have worked for it I would have done anything to set things right and comfortable again I would have. But I didn't.

I suppose I eventually realized that we wanted very different things - I was non-committal as all hell and that wasn't his thing. I was too nonchalant about everything, and it felt like the click went away after a while. He wanted a relationship with me, wanted to build a future and yet, here I was (am), still stuck in the goddamned past. Grow up, you say. I know.

I still think about him every time I see the moon, half or full. Every time I turn out the lights in my room and lay back to see the stars on my ceiling. And I smile on the inside while a little resigned sigh escapes from my lips. He called me half-moons and adored my eyes. He always wanted to see me smile and be happy. He liked kissing me at night under trees. He loved kissing me. He never wanted to hurt me.

And I broke up with him.

I've realized this much: It's not the end of the world. We still talk and we're still friends. We both know it'll take some time for things to get better, but we both know it'll happen. Adam was really good for me during the time that we spent together and I couldn't be happier that we met and came into each other's lives when we did. I'm looking forward to a friendship with him and this is important to me as I know that I want good friends more than I want a boyfriend.

It's her, you know, The Romantic. With all this, I don't know what I want, yet my expectations are so high stuff, she's driving me crazy. As if I'm not crazy enough already, referring to myself as two separate identities. Sometimes it feels as though I am two people - one who has renounced dating and boys and relationships altogether, who is and wants to thoroughly enjoy being a fabulously independent, single female; and the other, who just wants to find that right person whom she adores more than anything else in the world so they can cuddle and share toothbrushes and towels and kiss and touch. Both are still me though, and I have a lot of trouble figuring out who to listen to - looks like L'il Miss Independent won out this time.

In the wise words of my friend-o Matt: Relationships are fucking tough.

Amen, brother.

My god, I need a good hug.
9:17 pm