Usually when I write about you it’s to praise you. But tonight, after realizing that I spent yet another night in, just to cater to your needs, I’m writing because I’m mad. And I don’t know if I’m more mad at you, for letting this continue, or at myself for letting it happen in the first place.
Oh dear, you’ve got no idea what I’m talking about, do you?
You know how they say that in each and every relationship one person loves more than the other? In our case, that’s me. I’m so completely and irreversibly in love with you. You take over all my thoughts, flooding my brain with images of your face. When you’re not here I’m miserable; I do everything in my power to be next to you, wherever you are. To me it doesn’t matter if I have to ditch everyone, cancel all my plans or even move to a different planet; I’d do it as long as it meant being with you.
Isn’t it scary? I was petrified when I realized that my whole world revolves around you. In fact in my small mind you are the whole world; there’s nothing after you, nothing more important than you and your happiness.
At first it sounds romantic, I know. At least that’s what I was trying to tell myself; that I’m just another hopeless romantic who’s crazy in love. But darling, this thing between us can’t work – not as long as you’re not willing to do for me the things I do for you.
The sad part is, I know you’d never go crazy like I did. You’d never leave your secure job with the monthly paycheck and the holiday bonus. Hell you wouldn’t change your morning routine even if it meant spending extra time with me. But you were always like that and I got used to it.
I can deal with the fact that I will never be your one and only priority.
I can manage with getting ditched for your work, having to be dragged at your boss’ cocktail parties and putting up with your mother’s crazy expectations.
I’m okay with putting your needs first and running errands for you like paying your phone bills and sending your Christmas cards.
You know what I just can’t stand?
The fact that I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone, more than it should be possible or acceptable. I love you too much and that’s exactly why I hate you. Because I always put you first. I put my own needs, desires and even duties on hold to make sure you’re content. I do everything that’s possible to ensure that you’re always happy and that your life is complete. I take care of every little insignificant thing, every small detail, anything that can be fixed and placed in order to pleasure you, I do it.
So this is why I’m mad at you. I’m mad at you because you saw this coming from the moment I told you I’m in love with you. You knew me before, you knew I’d give myself up, break myself in order to fix you. And you let it happen.
I’m even more mad at myself. Because I let it go on. You? You had no reason to stop a woman in love from giving you her whole self to you; especially since you never asked for it. You just enjoyed the perks of being the center of my universe. But me? I should’ve stopped myself, set a foot and demanded that my head-over-heels alter ego goes on vacation because I desperately need to take care after myself.
But above and beyond everything else, I’m mad at myself because I can never really hate you. And I don’t mind giving up everything and everyone to keep you, as long as I can see the dimple on your cheek every morning when I wake up.