Falling in love with someone who is confused or unsure is probably one of the most damaging things you can involuntarily do. It’s setting yourself up for heartbreak and a future of always feeling not quite good enough; it’s admitting your feelings to someone and being given both hope and rejection in the same breath. It’s telling them you’ll wait when you’re not even sure what you’re waiting for; its sacrificing your self-worth, your dignity and your ability to ever be respected by them for that voice inside your head which tells you they will one day make up their mind, they will one day love you back in all of the ways you love them.
It is knowing from day one that they are taken, but reading all of the signs which tell you they want you. It’s watching them break-up with their partner because what the two of you have has gone too far, is too intense, is just a slip away from rose petal covered bed sheets and trips to Paris and then being told they don’t know what they want.
It’s realizing that it was never just about you, it was about everything, it was about the chase and the excitement and how forbidden it felt.
It was about standing on the edge of oblivion and getting the adrenaline racing through his veins at the thought of pulling you into the bar toilets and screwing you.
It was simply only about him and what he needed- sex and flirtation and an empty escape from his life.
But for you, oh sweet girl, for you it was everything. It was the first day you laid eyes on him—his smile stretching across his too perfect face and making you feel things you had only ever read about. It was those excited texts to your girlfriends about the hot new guy who had appeared in your life and discussing marriage and babies in that jokey way you always do when you become infatuated with someone new. It was trying to fit your life around the possibility of you becoming something, it was rearranging schedules just so you could spend another hour with him and that first night he held your hand. It was realizing all of the things you had in common and thinking to yourself, “this is it, he’s the one,” even though deep down you knew he would never be yours.
It was telling yourself that something this beautiful, this magical, this so damned near perfect had to work out because life couldn’t be that cruel.
But it was also those nights spent mindlessly watching your phone—waiting for his name to flash up and only getting a radio silence because he was with her or some other girl entirely. It was telling yourself time and time again that you were done, that you deserved to be more than a maybe, a late-night sext session, a grope in the work office and then deleting his number, only to respond within two minutes when he started flirting again because you felt those fireworks exploding inside of you and they were so addictive, you were afraid of that emptiness when he stopped.
It was sending half-naked photos just to get his attention and then hating yourself when his response wasn’t what you wanted because that day, he was choosing to be the man with a girlfriend. It was lying to everyone around you when they told you to stop, that it was killing you, that you were withdrawn and obsessed and falling apart. It was convincing yourself that you weren’t in love with him, that you just wanted a bit of fun because that’s all it ever was, but when you saw him again, you felt that rush of intense desire and chemistry, and you couldn’t deny it anymore because as much as you wished you could be just be okay with being his side-chick, you wanted to be his world.
It was playing the cool girl because you didn’t want him to think you can’t handle something emotionless and fun. It was taping your mouth shut when all you wanted to do was scream. It was crying yourself to sleep when he stopped replying to your texts, when he told you he wanted to be “just friends” even though yesterday he was smacking your ass and telling you you’re beautiful. It was forever trying to make sense of his mixed messages and supporting him when he was struggling, even though it was tearing you apart.
It’s wondering what in the hell is wrong with you, why you always fall for guys who don’t have room for you, for something real or serious, those men who just need a woman to comfort them when their life isn’t making sense.
It’s never feeling steady in any future relationship you have because you are just waiting for someone better than you to capture their eye because you know what men are capable of. It’s always feeling just that little bit worthless because you are always the girl who is not enough, who is only good for the sex and the 3am texts and the stolen kisses when no-one is looking.
It’s starting to believe that you will never be someone’s first choice, that you don’t deserve to be. It’s slowly feeling afraid of loving, of giving yourself to someone because you don’t know if they will give pieces of themselves back and more than that, it’s not knowing if there is even anything left to give.
It’s feeling broken and scarred, and not knowing a way back.