It took a psycho to get over you

I read a quote somewhere that said:

You will never stop loving someone. You either always will or you never did.

And I strongly believe this. Yes, I still love her. And yes I am over her. It took me a long time to realize that these two things are not the same.

You see I believed I had to stop loving her to get over her. But I was wrong. If I stopped loving her, it would mean that I never really did.

Loving her means still caring for her, wishing her every little happiness that she could think of. Still thinking she’s the most perfect being I have ever seen and more often then not staring at her pretty smile.

Getting over her means I no longer pine for her. I no longer crave contact more then anything in this world. I no longer feel the need to express my not-so-hidden love for her every chance I get. I no longer feel the need to have her in my life. I no longer feel incomplete without her.

And I’ve finally reached this point. Just like when I fell in love with her I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened and I’m not sure the psycho had any real contribution to all of this but maybe it did. Maybe he (yes, he) helped me in some way.

It was around 3 or 4 months ago when I dated this guy. I was ready to invest mt everything into this guy and maybe that’s something that helped me get over her. Granted it didn’t work out but during this period and after I was not thinking about her.

I wasn’t wondering who she was with or posting quotes, listening to love songs, no. I was just fully invested in this guy. Now, after hearing her voice on a live video today I realized it. I still think of her as perfect and I know I still love her…

But that’s it…

And that’s good!

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Stalker

I know everybody does the “social media stalking”. I’ve done it too, but has anyone ever done the real life stalking? Cuz I have…

I mean not a creepy kind of stalking where I’m outside of her house with binoculars and a dairy, writing her every move and remembering her schedule or the roads she takes to her house. No..not on that level but I have come pretty close.

There have been times, a lot actually where I would just drive past her house. Sometimes I would stop and just stare at the house. I would just look at it as if I was trying to etch every brick and nail into my memory. And sometimes I would just sit in front of her house and cry.

Sometimes I would go knowing she wasn’t home. Sometimes I would go knowing she was. And hoping to see some kind of movement inside. And if I did, a smile would come on my face.

Sometimes it was during the day, while I was at work or supposed to be working. Sometimes it would be late at night when coming from a party or the club.

Sometimes it was because I was close by. Sometimes I was nowhere near her house but I made the trip without thinking.

Sometimes I would just sit at home, jump up and go to her house because I told myself I needed to see her.
Sometimes when I actually got an invitation to her house I would come early just to watch her house. And when it was time to leave, I always procrastinated.

Sometimes when I saw her car at work or at the barber I would park my car at a safe distance and wait till she drove by. Hoping she would see me and stop to talk to me or at least notice me.

Sometimes..

But everytime I left her house I would drive away crying.

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Ik weet dat iedereen weleens de “sociale media stalker” heeft uitgehangen. Ik heb het ook gedaan, maar heeft iemand ooit het stalken in het echt gedaan? Ik wel …

Ik bedoel niet een griezelige manier van stalken waarbij ik buiten haar huis sta met een verrekijker en een dagboek, en elke beweging van haar opschrijf of haar schema onthoud of de wegen die ze neemt naar haar huis. Nee. Niet op dat niveau, maar ik ben vrij dichtbij gekomen.

Er zijn tijden geweest, veel eigenlijk waar ik gewoon langs haar huis zou rijden. Soms stopte ik en staarde ik gewoon naar het huis. Ik zou er gewoon naar kijken alsof ik elke steen en spijker in mijn geheugen probeerde te etsen. En soms zat ik gewoon voor haar huis en huilde.

Soms ging ik, terwijl ik wist dat ze niet thuis was. Soms ging ik wetende dat ze er wel was. En in de hoop een beweging binnenin te zien. En als dat gebeurde, kwam er een glimlach op mijn gezicht.

Soms was het overdag, terwijl ik aan het werk was of zou moeten werken. Soms was het ‘s avonds laat wanneer ik van een feestje of de club kwam.

Soms ging ik omdat ik in de buurt was. Soms was ik niet in de buurt van haar huis, maar ik maakte de reis zonder na te denken.

Soms zat ik gewoon thuis, sprong op en ging naar haar huis omdat ik tegen mezelf zei dat ik haar moest zien.

Soms als ik een uitnodiging kreeg om bij haar huis te komen, zou ik vroeg komen om alleen maar naar haar huis te kijken. En toen het tijd was om te vertrekken, heb ik het altijd zo lang mogelijk uitgesteld.

Soms als ik haar auto op haar werk zag of bij de kapper, parkeerde ik mijn auto op een veilige afstand en wachtte tot ze voorbij reed. Ik hoopte dat ze me zou zien en zou stoppen om met me te praten of me op zijn minst op zou merken.

Soms..

Maar telkens als ik haar huis verliet, reed ik huilend weg.

Whatsapp

I looked at her status today..

And it brought back some memories. I remember opening our conversations and just waiting for her to come online. Some of the times I wasn’t even planning on starting a conversation, I just watched her come online and offline, online and offline, online and offline. Sometimes I would wonder who she was talking to and most of the time it killed me knowing it wasn’t me.

I would be the first person that knew she changed her profile picture because I was watching it like a hawk. Even though I knew she only changed her picture once a month.

I remember one (or two) time(s) I deliberately sent an “accidental” message just so she could answer, just so I could see her name pop up on my screen, just so I could feel my heart skip a beat when I saw it.

I remember changing my profile picture to a photo of her or me and her but adjusting my privacy settings so only I could see it. Because it made me feel good.

I remember changing my profile pic to yet another sad quote just so she could see it and react to it. I remember smiling when she did.

I remember stealing her profile pics and putting it as my background picture, my screensaver and my conversation-background. I remember staring at that picture for hours.

I remember her sending me a voice note on my birthday singing happy birthday to me and me replaying it over and over and over and over and over again. I remember playing it until I fell asleep.

I remember saving screenshots of our conversations because she had said something that was unbelievably cute and I just wanted to keep that moment forever.

I remember

I remember..

When your crush likes your pic

I uploaded a selfie today and she liked it, she literally double tapped on that.

Mind you a good 20 or 30 people had already liked it but her’s was the only one who made my heart skip a beat.

It made me smile.

It made me laugh out loud.

It made me want to go to her page and stalk her for a while.

It made me all giddy en warm.

It made me happy.

It made me wanna dance.

It made me wanna jump.

It made me write this post…

I put a knife to my neck today..

I know..great title right!

Well it’s true. I did.

And I started asking myself “Am I suicidal?” I don’t have suicidal thoughts but as I put it to my neck I remembered I was thinking “I am so tired”. And I thought about the last time I had such a thought. It was about her.

I remember her asking me if I’ve ever had such thoughts. I remember her telling me that she didn’t but if she would’ve died it wouldn’t be the worst thing. I don’t remember what my answer was but I do remember that I wanted to cry when she that. Because for me it would definetly have been the worst thing.

I remember her sending me a quote saying:

“And if all you did today was hold yourself together, I’m proud of you.”

I tend to think suicidal thoughts are the cause of depression. Am I depressed? I did notice I’ve been grabbing to a couple of “pleasures” like food meaning overeating, drinks meaning alcohol and selfservice meaning masturbating. The first two more than the last.

I keep wanting to escape reality. Even the shows I watch are always fiction or fantasy. Does that mean I’m depressed? And how long before I realized that food, alcohol and sex aren’t enough? How long before I allow myself to let that knife actually pierce through?

Nothing-ness

As I’m sitting here, having my third glass of sweet red wine I ask myself what am I feeling. When I drink I either feel happy/giddy or I feel emotional. To be honest I’m not really feeling anything right now.

I’ve felt this way before and it always scares me..not feeling. It’s odd..it’s empty. Most of the times I feel like this I always grab onto the most intense feeling I know. My love for her…

I know what you’re going to say. “It’s not okay to think of her.” “You’ll never let her go if you allow yourself to think of her.” I know, I know. But look at the alternative. How can you not feel. I’d rather feel the immense pain of loving her and not being able to be with her, than feel nothing.

It’s empty..this feeling.

It’s deafening..

And I don’t know why but I think feeling nothing is just one step down from where I how I used to feel. Feeling nothing feels like being at the bottom of a pit and I get the feeling it’s going to be pretty hard to climb back.

Actually for me, it would be impossible..

I forget..

I forget a lot of things.

I forgot what I dreamt about last night.

I forgot how I felt when I woke up this morning.

Sometimes I even forget what I ate 2 hours ago.

This might worry some people but it doesn’t worry me. I actually want to forget, atleast sometimes..

I don’t wanna forget that day I held your hand when we were walking in the city. I don’t wanna forget that it made me feel like I was your girlfriend. I do wanna forget that the second you let go, I knew that I wasn’t.

I don’t wanna forget hugging you when you felt sad. I don’t wanna forget that it made me feel I was capable of removing your sadness. I do wanna forget knowing that I actually wasn’t.

I don’t wanna forget dreaming about you and me laying and talking in your bed. I don’t wanna forget dreaming you kissed me on my forehead. I do wanna forget waking up, realizing that will never happen.

I don’t wanna forget watching movies with you and your family. I don’t wanna forget playing games with our friends. I do wanna forget her walking in and kissing you.

I don’t wanna forget confessing to you, explaining how this all started. I don’t wanna forget confiding in you, what I’ve been feeling for a while. I do wanna forget realizing that I was not enough and will never be..