The Festival of Rejection

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Photo by Erik-Jan Leusink on Unsplash
On the fifth day of desperation, inspiration came to me... And I turned to the Billi for answers.

Not either of my billis, mind you - they managed to eat parts of my textbooks in the night, so they've been kicked out of my room.

Anyway, the billi was dealing with a problem when I went in, and the minute I saw it I was like, "OMG, hey! I've had this problem so many times!"
"You were happy when you were sleeping with Rain. Something that transpired between you seemed sweet and joyful. When your friend tells you to get on Tinder as a solution, she’s implying that men are interchangeable and some good sex or another connection will help you forget. In other words there was nothing special between you and Rain.
But everything is as special as it is ordinary. If it was special to you but not to Rain that does not automatically mean you are stupid or inferior and he is more sophisticated." - The Billi
Say that again, louder. Say it for the people in the back. Say it for me, me, me! 

I've told myself a lot of things. Everything, probably. I've said it's true love. I've said it's the only love I've ever had. I've said it's the only love I will ever have. I've said it's toxic, it's unimportant, it's not worth it. I've said this person doesn't even treat me like I'm human. That I don't deserve that treatment. That nobody deserves such treatment. I've said, "Come back, I'll do anything." I've said, "No, not that. I won't fucking do that." I've said he loves me. I've said he loves me not. 

So now it's impossible to separate what from what. I can't tell if I'm truly heartbroken, or just insulted. I can't tell whether it's about the rejection, the "You can treat other people like they're human, it's just me you'll treat like shit." I can't tell whether I'm happy for him, or not. I can't tell if I want to move on. 

I don't know if I want to talk to this person, or keep silent for a year, like I promised myself. (I was hoping a year would break me out of the cycle, but I don't know if I want the cycle broken. After all, I really regret not speaking, all the self respect.) Life without self respect and pride would probably be simpler, yes? Horrible, but simpler. I'm guessing. 

I'm constantly tempted to break the silence. Constantly tempted to seek clarification. Constantly tempted to go yell in his face some more. I want to make peace. I want to beat him to a pulp. I want to remember that no conversation with him ever ends well. I want to remember that if I feel like crap now, how will I feel when if he says, "Yes, you're right, I don't give a crap about you. I haven't for a long time. That's not going to change." When if he says "It's not me, it's you. I can care about everyone else, just not you."

How much would that suck? So I go on, not messaging. Not messaging, as it turns out, is an active process, not a passive one. Who knew? 

I want to say, "He said he doesn't love you anymore. Remember?" I pride myself on listening to people when they say things - no, actually, I want to pride myself on doing that but I actually find it super hard, when I want the opposite of what they're saying. I should have listened. I still should just listen, I still can.

I can't. 
"You may be disappointed, you may be surprised, you may be bruised or you may feel lighter. You may have to give yourself a little space to get past whatever complicated feelings you feel and not hang out with the gang for a while – and that’s alright. As long as you let yourself feel whatever you are feeling, without blaming others and second-guessing and trying to rationalize yourself to yourself, you’ll eventually get past it." - The Billi

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