I got a tumblr and made it a Girl's Day fanblog so it took up a lot of my time.
I couldn't wait for YW to go back home for the summer this year. It killed me last year, this year I almost looked forward to it. I don't know this man anymore. He isn't the same. Somehow he gives me even less than he did before. It's like I'm constantly taking some kind of test and if I don't pass, he just reminds me I'll never be with him and never be good enough for him or anyone like him.
My sister got married. He's a cool guy. He makes her and my other sister actually treat me like a human being twice a year so that's cool. My birth dad was there. Didn't say one word to me. Couldn't even muster the fucking balls to look me in the eyes. The priest talked about the sanctity of marriage and how a marriage is a treat for two best friends, the reward for how much they put forth for each other.
My birth father, A, sat two rows in front of me with the woman he cheated on my mother with and threw us out for. When the priest talked about this, they held hands and looked at each other. I was designated the interpreter for my sister's step-father's father who had recently had a stroke that affected his speech, since I'm so good at accents (?). I had no other role in the wedding. My mother did, my sister ex-step-mother had a role. I did not. I started crying in the middle of the ceremony because it was too much. It was too much seeing this family of pretend people living pretend lives with their pretend soul mates and having them all reject me. I blamed it on me and YW fighting.
I wanted YW to come. I wanted him to sit next to me as a reminder that I wasn't like the rest of them and that was okay. I had a different life as them, and that was okay. He told me an hour before the ceremony that he "didn't feel like" going. Said it'd make him uncomfortable. Because, you know, it was going to be so easy for me to attend this wedding and see all of these people who saw me as this pathetic ex-rehab patient who couldn't be expected to behave like a civilized human and thus must be excluded from the wedding as much as possible without "setting me off".
He left me, knowing it was the first time I'd be seeing my birth father since he threw me out of MY childhood home so his skanked up barfly HOE could move in. He left me, knowing I didn't want to go alone. Because he "didn't feel like it".
I don't feel like reassuring him a thousand times every time we hang out that he's handsome. I don't feel like hearing that I'm dumb. I don't feel like being constantly reminded "I'm not your boyfriend" every time he decides I've said something too chummy. I don't feel like being made to feel worthless and pushed aside every time someone more attractive walks by him. I don't feel like being paraded around his friends while they look me up and down and talk in Malay about how "she's hot, and you've got her wrapped around your finger? Too bad she's crazy." "she does whatever you want? It's like the perfect relationship, you don't have to do anything and she does everything else!" I'm not stupid and some of the Malaysian girls hate you and will gladly translate for me.
I don't feel like being put on the shelf and ignored every time you just feel like I've been asking for too much lately. But I do it all and I don't even know why. I hate this. I hate him. But I love him. Except I hate him. I hate him for making me feel like I'm nothing without him. I hate him for brainwashing me into thinking this pseudo-relationship was healthy and worth my time and effort. I hate him for gradually treating me like shit more and more at a pace that I didn't even notice it was so bad until I gained a new friend and they suddenly asked, "That guy's a dick, no offense, but why are you dating him?" I replied I wasn't dating him and they responded, "So he's not even giving you sex or affection or anything? Why on earth are you letting him?!" And I fully realized that the gifts had stopped.
The compliments had stopped. The sweet good mornings had stopped. The check in texts had stopped. The random hi's had stopped. The 'I miss you's had stopped. The care had stopped. He wasn't even putting on a front of pseudo-boyfriend care anymore, he was just flat out using me. He was using me for affection so he could feel better about himself. He was using me for love and affection without having to give anything in return and yelled at me when I asked for more. I talked about my problems and he ignored them. He said it wasn't important to him so he didn't want to listen. And I let him. I'm a pathetic loser. And he knows it. And he just takes and takes and takes what he wants and says piss off about the rest, the rest of me he can't get anything useful out of. The rest of me that isn't good enough for him, not pretty enough, not quiet enough, not demure enough, not whatever-the-hell-else-he-thinks-I'm-not enough.
I'm in love with a man who treats me just like my abusive, deadbeat, selfish, pathetic, worthless, horrible, insane, delusional, obese, hateful birth father did. If he slapped me and worded his thinly disguised insults as flat out cruelty, it'd be the exact same. And I hate him. But I love him. Except I hate him. I'm glad he's back in his home country right now. I can't deal with him being near me. I miss his affection so much and he doesn't even care. If I want to see him or talk to him, I have to reach out first. Because he's my one and only and I am nothing but a toy to him. His life goes on and mine is meandering without a destination, because I'm a pathetic loser who wasted a year and a half of my life on someone who sucked all the care, love, affection, and goodness out of me and spat out my empty shell and moved on without looking back.
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