I don't want to complain about my break. It was so much fun--can you beat 11 states in 10 days? Can you beat a nice Christmas, a Miami bowl game, and an unforgettable Colorado New Year's? No. You can't. But despite all that fun and all those good memories that were made, there were some pretty distressing ones.
There were memories that were dredged up. And I thought it would be okay, I thought I could handle it. I thought I was a big girl, a grown up who knows what she wants and how to protect herself. I thought I had finally heard the things I wanted (and thought I deserved) to hear. In fact, I thought I was getting what I needed: the knowledge that I wasn't in the wrong for the past year and a half. But that knowledge turned into something of a mistake. Not a regrettable mistake, but a mistake that I'm not sure how to fix.
It's an issue of definitions and interpretations: What is "casual" and what are "benefits" and where does respect come in and blur those lines? In the relationships we choose to make, how do we know which ones are beneficial and which are harmful? How do we choose which bridges to burn? How much hurt are we willing to suffer through to keep a relationship and how, when you turn around 48 hours later and survey the situation, do you know that your relationship is genuine? Or at least, more genuine than others? How do you separate fact from fiction, and logic from emotion? How do you make good choices?
I thought I could handle what was given to me, but it appears as though I can't. When too many people are rooting against you, when there are too many unknowns and too much deceit (regardless of its intent)...well, sometimes it's time to just step back and let other people do the worrying. You'd think I would have known better, I tell myself all time. “[She was] still stupid—after all these years—to aim [her]self at inevitable hurt.”—Claire Davis
I'm finished. You can have it your way. That's what hurts the least.