You know, I think that I worry just a little too much. It is like this constant battle that I fight whenever I get involved with another person. My nerves go completely haywire and I lose sense of who I am; all logic and rationale go flying out of the window. I react far too quickly and I think far too deeply about every word, every tone of voice, every movement that my eye just happens to catch. For the past year I have been trying, trying so fucking hard to not let every single little thing set me on my guard. I have been trying to force myself not to react to every little provocation that life may decide to put in my path, attempting to not drive myself absolutely mental. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I manage to turn off my nerves and just relax. Most of the time, however, my body and mind almost instantaneously agree that it is time to freak the fuck out.
I hate it. I completely despise that aspect of my personality and I wish that there was some switch I could flip, some wire that I could cut to just turn everything off. I want to just stop worrying for two fucking seconds. Is that really so much to ask?
I have a dinner date with Dawson tomorrow. You would think that I would be excited about that, right? Wrong. I am dreading this date. My gut is twisting and turning, forcing nausea to overwhelm me as my chest continues to pretend that there is a thousand pound weight atop of it. All this because of one simple little sentence.
“We have some things that we need to talk about.”
We do? Since when? Why? Is it bad? It is probably bad. In fact, it is probably the worst fucking thing in the world that anyone, anywhere will ever tell me. Ever. And, of course, ofcourseofcourseofcourse, Dawson will not tell me anything whatsoever about these “things” that we need to discuss. He will not tell me whether the nature of these things is good or bad, which more than likely means that they’re bad. Well… to me, anyway. A normal person might be slightly more optimistic and hope that Dawson had something good to say. Or at least neutral. But no. Not me. Not Ty. Why? Because Ty is fucking crazy and doesn’t know how to CALM THE FUCK DOWN.
My immediate thought is that Dawson is going to break up with me, that he is going to leave me and not want to be my lover anymore. Has he fallen out of love with me? But how can that be, when just a week ago he was talking about how much he wanted to be with me? Can someone fall out of love in a week? Is that possible? Maybe he has met someone else. Another boy that is prettier, thinner, more athletic, more masculine, and all around better than me. Better than Ty. That’s possible, right? Maybe my constant worrying has driven him away.
OH WOULDN’T THAT BE IRONIC.
Then again, just two days ago he was talking about how much he wanted to get back in bed with me. Surely he wouldn’t initiate sex if he didn’t still love me, right?
Sure. If I want to be optimistic.
He calls me every single day. He doesn’t have to call me. I have never asked him to do so, and yet he always does. I wonder if maybe he feels obligated, like if he doesn’t that is going to cause me to fall into some melodramatic twelve hour long depression. Then again, Dawson is not really the acquiescing type. If he did not want to call me, he probably wouldn’t. That is assuming that I know him well enough to say that.
Suddenly, I’ve lost my confidence in how well I know my own boyfriend. Go me.
If I’m lucky, he’ll just tell me something not so heartbreaking. Like how he’s doing cocaine again.
My god, is that the type of person that I am? Am I really hoping that my boyfriend is doing drugs instead of wanting to break up with me? Am I that needy, that desperate for love that I would choose just being with Dawson over his well being? Fuck me. I need someone to beat some sense back into me; that is assuming that I ever had some to begin with.
Sadly enough, I have the feeling that I will not be having any sexytime with Dawson tomorrow night. Hooray! No sex for Ty! That’s always a fantastic result.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I just be SANE?
Please, Life. I do not want to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. If I keep thinking that Dawson will break up with me, then he will. I promise you, if tomorrow does not end up being the realization of my worst fears, I will fix my broken self. Somehow.
