I fear I’ve moved on fast out of impatience, total selfishness and desperation to know if he who claimed to love me really did love me as much as he claimed.
As much as I feared he’d come back to see me, I was terrified he won’t come back to see me (even though it was I who forbade him to do so, saying his return would do him no good at all). My inner self was guarded in a moat of indifference – his last chance to surprise me (as he originally planned to) or maybe to redeem himself after his refusal to apologize for neglecting me over the holidays, by taking the final risk of flying twenty-odd hours on an SQ flight with the possibility of having a door slammed in his face.
After silence greeted me on New Year’s morning, my heart instantly was appeased; calmness now resides in me, and I have freed myself from the constant worry and tearful nights I’ve endured for the past couple of months.
I need to bear some responsibility to this unfortunate and maybe unecessary end; I was paranoid and tricky and demanding mostly. I demanded a one-minute phone call a day just so I know he’s safe, and that he kept his cellphone by his side always when he’s out, something which he has failed to accomplish, coming up with the utmost convenience of an inexcusable excuse.
I guess I’m just not worthy enough. Maybe I’m not hot enough. Maybe I need to work out more. Nag less, be more understanding, patient, forgiving, tolerant, and whatever qualities men in general demand of their girlfriends.
Well. I’m not the generally-demanded type. I demand. Diplomatically and equitably. Perhaps I’m too much of a narcissist at this moment. Perhaps I’m putting a curse on myself to be single all my life. Well. At least I know I’m strong enough to walk away when there’s a need to. I hate self-pitying women who cry about bad relationships that they don’t wanta get out of because they’re afraid of change.
Change is good. No matter how you see it. Change brings new perspectives and educates you of options. Change matures you.