I’ll never forgive myself for telling Marcus that I loved him before it was true. The thing is, I thought that by saying it, maybe the feelings would be true. And I wanted to be in love so much. I wanted to not be in love with Ian. I wanted to be done with dating and just get married and start having babies. I thought that since I found the person in the world who was most like me ever, it would be easy.

I don’t think I ever was in love with Marcus. We had some good times, sure, but the “fake it till you make it” motto of mine just wasn’t strong enough to bring a friendship into something more.

I’m not proud of this. I’m downright ashamed of it. Wouldn’t you be? Living three years of your life as a lie?

I remember a conversation I had with my mother after Marcus moved out. She asked if I was going to be dating anyone else soon, and I told her that Love and I had been fighting, and that we were On A Break. She sounded quite disappointed, but after lying for so long (to Marcus, myself, and anyone who would listen), I couldn’t even imagine trying to feel again.

Maybe that’s why it took so long for me to even date anyone afterwards. (The next date I had was about 9 months later, though he evidently thought much more of me than I ever did of him — but that’s another entry (and quite a dramaful/gossipy one, if I may say so myself)!)

It’s definitely why it was so fucking terrifying for me to come to grips with the fact that I love Nate. Well, that and the stupid Cosmo I read at work this week. On the one hand, it’s nice to get paid to sit around when I have no patients, but then I sit there for 10 1/2 hours reading Cosmo and Redbook and Rachel Ray and 8 000 different bridal magazines. By the time I get home I just want to fuck, eat, and wear pouffy dresses.

Sorry, tangent. Where was I?

Right. Nate. So I’ve been fighting with myself for at least a week now. Part of me has been saying, “You feel it! Just say it!” And part of me has been saying, “Don’t be an idiot! You don’t know what you’re feeling!” And part of me has been saying, “Duh. It’s obvious to both of you what’s going on here.” And part of me has been saying, “Well if it’s so obvious, it doesn’t really need to be said, does it?” And part of me has been saying, “Don’t scare him off!” And part of me has been saying, “You are all weirdos.” That part has the voice of Sam The Eagle.

I am pretty sure that if it went on much longer, my psyche would shatter and I’d end up with MPD or DID or whatever it’s called these days. It’s probably a good thing that as I was falling asleep last night, the tight grip I’ve had on my tongue was inadvertently loosened and I told him that I love him. And of course he knew already, but I felt better after I said it. That’s got to be a good sign.

So tonight on the way home from Nate’s/Uno’s/eclipse-watching, I realized that I have been so focused on how rotten I was feeling over the last week or so, that it had become pity. Ugh. I haven’t pitied myself like that since college & the whole suicidal Creighton fiasco.

[Tangent: I'm wicked dizzy right now. Like I get when I have a not-for-a-week cigarette, only I haven't.]

So I decided that I don’t have to feel like this. I can just take everything that’s been said about me in the last week or so in stride and not really care about how it was supposed to make me feel. And hopefully this will make me more fun to be around, since I have been absolutely rotten to people, and it’s just been getting worse.

Also stupid. It’s been an off-week.

But even if I can’t shake the stupids for a while (it’s even like my muscles got stupid – I missed veins left and right today), I can change my attitude. As much as I like being able to bitch about work with Kaity, I don’t actually like doing it. I feel … gossipy. And more than a little crass. I’m not going to stop, mind you. I think it’s good to have a place to vent, and also if Kaity needs it, I want to be available for her venting. But tonight it didn’t feel as good as it usually does.

But back to me for a moment, I decided that I would go ahead and read whatever it was that Marcus emailed me. If I don’t like what he has to say, it doesn’t much matter because he really is about as much out of my life as a person can get. Just like when people ask me what he’s going to be doing in Hawaii for money/car/living arrangements/whatever, I can tell them that it’s not my problem anymore.

Being afraid of getting hurt by something he said is not a good reason to avoid it. It’s like LETTIN’ THE TERRISTS WIN

in tenebris