After Me Comes The Flood

I was SO positive and full of beans yesterday, wasn’t I? Then it got even better today because I found a job, I wrote a piece of prose that I think is actually quite good, I submitted it to two magazines and then I had an idea for a screenplay. I thought “Yes! I’m doing it! I’m living my life without that silly boy!” 

Do you know what happens if you have a relationship you put so heavily online? IT NEVER GOES AWAY. Today I thought I was strong enough and ready enough to look at one of the many videos of us online. I thought this way because of – remember the “surreal situation” I mentioned yesterday? It’s about a man, and it’s a man I would normally chase. The fact he seems interested in me was an ego boost. I thought, after that, “YES! I’m ready to move on and I CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER AND YOU WILL SEE THAT FOR YOURSELF!” and I was feeling good. Then I looked at our YouTube videos and now I am uncontrollably crying again. What the fuck is going on here? What even IS this? In the video, his arm is around me, because we’d just got back from a New Year’s Eve party at my Uncle’s. My family had always welcomed him in with open arms, they had a genuine love for him by virtue of me loving him. We’d had one of the best nights of my life and come home to the news we’d (or more to the point I HAD) won an award for Sadcore Dadwave so we made a silly video acceptance speech. His beard is all grown long because he’s happy and comfortable in a relationship with someone who won’t judge his beard length. My face is slightly podgy and my hair is lifeless but I don’t care because I’m with someone who is in love with me and who I am in love with. I thought sure, in the future I’m going to have all kinds of sex with probably handsome and exciting men, but it’s not enough, it’s not the same. I don’t know when I’ll get to feel like that again, and that is the biggest hurdle of all of them. God, my moods are so rapid-cycling at the moment. Earlier on I thought I was getting manic (really feels like it), now I feel like I don’t even know. 

Part of me really hopes he’s hurting at least half as much as I am. The rest of me really hopes he isn’t, because I’m mad at him and he’s made me sad, but I don’t dislike him nearly quite enough to wish this kind of grief onto him, too. 


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