To Hang On or Let go?

I never in a million years thought I would be in this situation again. Heartbroken. I thought I had taken all the precautions, but my heart always, always lets me down. And this could literally not be a better time to be experiencing such things. We are experiencing a global pandemic, yet my stupid little heart cannot stop obsessing over the fact that this man has been silent all weekend. Reminds me of that tweet I saw that said something along the lines  of. "He is quarantined with his phone, if he isn't texting you now, just forget about him." I think I retweeted that post, so that he could see it and feel, but guess what? I still got left on read. LOL.

I honestly thought there were no more tears to cry for this man, but my body shocked me today and I cried until I was inspired to go back to writing. The last time my heart was broken in this way, I stopped writing, stopped trying to write. I felt like it was not worth it. Even as I frantically type this, I am not so sure whether I will post this, because this post bears my all, kind of even shows how petty lame I am. I want to try convince myself he is the bad guy so that I can have my heart let go. Buy my heart is till holding on to the way he feels like home whenever I am with him. My brain reminds me of how he totally disregards me when we are apart, but my heart wants to make excuses for him. Typical.

He had a woman in his car last week. I have my sources. Nothing sinister was going on, just two adults in a dark, parking lot talking. He called me later that day. But he did not mention anything. Like he would, anyway. At the time I did not know of said woman, so I did not confront him. But why would I, anyway? He is not my boyfriend. He has made it clear every now and again when I ask what it is we are doing. Honestly, today I felt like writing paragraphs, then I remembered the promise I made to myself, to never write an essay to a man regarding my feelings, and his nonchalance towards them. And so I deleted whatever statements I made and burst into a fresh bout of tears because I am in pain. Actual, physical pain. He knows what I want. He knows how I feel about him. Yet he keeps stringing me along, entertaining other women (This is a guess because he is cute. But I read somewhere if the texts are getting short with you, they are getting longer with someone else, so.....). The reason I still hang on, if I am being honest with myself, is because he is not abusive. If he insulted me as badly as that guy I do not like to mention did, I probably would not be here. I hold on because I think that maybe, just maybe in this mess, he will still choose me, that I am making a mistake letting him go.

The question is, am I making a mistake holding on to what feels like a relationship that will never come to fruition? Has my heart just fallen in love with the bits and pieces he's given me, as it awaits the rest of him? Lord knows how much I prayed, the day I allowed him into my personal life. I prayed that God would show me that indeed he is my husband. I still don't know how God speaks to me, so you can now see why I am feeling the way I am right now. I have tried to hate him. It doesn't work. Even that thing of imagining how he shits or whatever it is my cousin told me is not working. I am still here pining for a man who I left an anonymous note to-you've seen those links, leave an anonymous note blah blah-but because my heart is what it is, he knew it was me. And in case you are wondering, I still have not received any assurance from him. YIkes! I sound so desperate. Who is this girl? When and why did I become this girl? Aaaaargghhh!!!

I am really hoping the cooking I do later will act as therapy, because the psyche I had for tv has disappeared, I do not have the energy to read and concentrate, and it still sucks that he is the only person I want to talk to me yet I know very well I have been ghosted, again. After this COVID-19 pandemic passes, and I am still alive, may God help me enroll into therapy so I never have to cry as a result of daddy issues, as that guy I hate used to say. If you actually get achance to read this, please say a prayer for me and send me the number of a good therapist. I cannot keep living like this.