An Open Letter

I hosted a lot of friends over today. They came over from 1 all the way till eight or 9 PM. This was the most amount of people I’ve hosted, like around like 12 or 13 at the peak. I’m glad I did it, but my social battery I think is drained. I think there’s also a certain amount of growing pain in finding your community of people and who you feel comfortable with.

I don’t think about her as much anymore. I almost have started to forget her face, but whenever I remember that, I think back to her and I have to stop myself. I also know that I have a lot of photos of her, and honestly I want to go back and look at them. But I don’t do it cause I know it’s smart not to. It’s strange because I don’t even know how much of her I miss, versus if I just miss the holes that she filled. But at the same time I think it’s a little bit of a mixture of both. I really do miss a lot of the connection in the suite moments that we shared, and a lot of the things that we were able to do together. But I think this is a dangerous thing, romanticizing things this soon. I still find that some of the places where it hurt me a lot are still sore. I try not to avoid things that remind me of her, but I don’t really want to see anything about VALORANT or VR chat. It’s weird to have tied myself so closely to someone who gave me so much doubt and anxiety. It’s weird the lack of self-respect/self-love that I had. I think I wanted a relationship so desperately, and I wanted it to work so badly that I kept telling myself that what happened was just a fluke over and over again. But at the same time that doesn’t make it any different, how nice and safe it felt to wake up to her. In the middle of the night waking up, and rolling over and pulling her arm over me, and getting to be hugged and cuddled to bed. Having someone that would lay on me. Feeling her hands pushing on my body in her shitty attempts at massages. It’s hard because she wasn’t a great partner a lot of different ways, but I think she did try. And at the end of the day someone can be good but not good enough. And I guess I just have a higher bar. I think she will have another partner that is maybe a little bit less mentally dominant that can coexist with her a little bit better, and things can be more her speed. And I think she’ll be happy and I think her partner will be very happy with her. She has a very kind heart. Just a bit naïve and with some growing to do. And I kind of feel like I grabbed her along and dragged her at my speed in life, and I think that’s not something she was ready for. We really are at different stages of life. In more ways than one. And I don’t miss having to almost regress myself in several different ways to match a little bit more. And I really like the stability that I have now. But I do mourn the future that I had planned and hoped for. I kept telling myself that people are just young right now, and if you give it a little bit of time people will mature more and grow. And I think that’s true, but at the same time I don’t know what I can even expect.

It’s a weird thing to me, I feel like in a lot of ways I consider myself exceptional, but at the same time I have problems with my self-worth. Sometimes I just wish that I was loved as a child and I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to figure out a concept that I never could believe. Like how could you fucking tell me that someone could just love you no matter what. Like even if you did bad at things, or even if you fucked up or even if you asked for help or a fucking hug sometimes, they would actually give it to you? Like if you told your parent that you were hurting, they would care? What a stupid fucking fantasy that is. And I know that it’s reality for a lot of people, but I just almost want to refuse the fact that it exists. The grapes I cannot taste must be sour. But I fucking just wish I could have been loved, not even for how much nicer it would’ve made the rest of my life, and maybe not making me try to kill myself. But even just for the fact that I could see myself as someone worth loving to myself, and to others. Because I say that I love myself and I think I do, but at the same time when I think of anyone else it’s almost like the only thing I should be loved for is either value, or loyalty from value I’ve already provided. And that fucking hurts to go through life that way.