I Swear, This Time, I Mean It.

Three months later and, yet again, I’ve fallen behind on my promise to write more. It seems that my love of writing has been bruised by the volume of coursework and research I’m required to do for both uni and work now. That and the fact that just now, free time is something of a luxury as it nears the end of yet another semester…. but the last four weeks have been an absolute nightmare. So now more than anything I think I need a place to voice my emotions in the purest and simplest way I know how…

The love of my life that I spent the last post metaphorically picking out China patterns over? He cheated on me, twice, and has tried to break up with me a grand total of three times now. Whilst I appreciate that he has a lot of ‘emotional baggage’ so to speak - and who am I to judge? I do too! - I’m still not sure when, if ever, I’ll really be able to move past both of these things. Cheating on someone, breaking up with them, trying to blame mistakes that they’ve made in the past for your relationship’s demise… that isn’t the man I fell in love with. No matter what his reasoning behind it.

I believe that he loves me, and I believe that he never meant to hurt me. But when you love someone, no matter how painful certain topics are to bring up with them, you find a way to discuss your problems. You move on and you grow - together. You don’t throw away a relationship that you swear is ‘the best that’s ever happened to you’ or the only person you claim you could see yourself settling down with.

Truth be told, I’m hurting. I now have nightmares that he’s still cheating on me. I get a physical knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach every time I hear he’s going out drinking with his friends. Because it’s during those times that he breaks my heart the hardest… and can I really spend the rest of my life feeling that way?

As I said to him on Saturday night after he’d drunkenly begged for my forgiveness again - I’m just not sure how much I have left to give anymore. I’ve spent the last month beaten down by boyfriend trauma, a mountain of coursework, mounting pressure at work and the death of my gran (yes, the very same woman from the last post). I’m just not sure how much fire I have left inside - and I’m honestly not sure if even that could  be enough to get me by.

I’d heard the age-old saying that ‘we always hurt the ones we love’ - but why? Why hurt the people who’ve offered to give us everything? Who’ve put their own needs aside to give us what we want and need most? I know that in the past I’ve hurt those close to me too, and I’ve never been able to reason why I’d done it or why it happened. But I would never hurt someone I loved in the way that I’ve been hurt by my other half lately. And that’s slowly but surely starting to chip away at what’s left of my already fragmented, fragile heart.

xXx