||[Sep. 21st, 2004|10:55 am]
Sick of it All
It pisses me off that I'm not over this. I obsess every day about calling him. I come up with a million excuses of why I should call, but what's the point? I know that I will only make him frustrated and feel guilty, and I will just end up getting upset.
It has only been 3 weeks. I know that he won't call me. I can't understand why he decided to do this. I guess that his fear was more important and more comfortable than trying to make it work.
Maybe I'm deluding myself and even though he said that he cared about me, he really didn't. Or not enough.
I guess that he really did think that it would just pop into his head that "this is it." Like what he said to me when we watched Along Came Polly. Obviously, he didn't feel it. I've been kidding myself into thinking that maybe he did, and that's what scared him.
I tried to be what he wanted. It was all on his terms. I don't know what I did wrong, what I wasn't enough of. Maybe nothing would have been enough.
I feel used, like he took advantage of my kindness, the things I did for him. I can hardly recall when he did anything for me.
It's crazy, this sadness. I need a lobotomy.