Thursday, September 13, 2007


When it's late at night and my defenses are down, I am more honest with myself. More able to accept my feelings. Or rather, less able to ignore them.

I am horrified to be so callous and uncaring. At pushing so hard at everything that doesn't cooperate when I want things my way. Perhaps I deserve to be single forever. Why would anyone choose a companion so self-centred and unable to acknowledge it?

I don't know what to do. I don't know what is right anymore. I don't even know how I feel anymore. Do I care about him? Yes, undoubtedly. But what is that feeling? Is it the condescension of Jane Austen's usage? I don't think I'm better than him. But I don't respect him. Perhaps that's the problem. I don't know if I have ever really respected him. Is it possible to respect someone if you don't respect yourself? What's the difference between feeling respect for someone and feeling intimidated by them?

Basically what it comes down to is that I hate myself. When it's late and I'm alone and too tired to keep up the defenses, I turn all of my negative energy on myself. At night, it's harder for me to pretend confidence. When there are people around, I fake it. If I talk it, I can walk it, right? Wrong. It's just low self-esteem propped up by the illusion of being capable and intelligent and self-sufficient. It's easier to project the anger and pain onto the people that are close to you. When he told me he wouldn't let go, somehow that meant he gave me a license to mistreat him.

What an epiphany. But now what do I do?

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