I just generally don't want things to be the way they are. Isn't that just the worst whiny bitching boiled down to its elemental form? "Stop the world, I want to get off!"
I don't want to be sick, I want to be sane. I don't want insomnia, I want to sleep. I don't want Hot Mess there, I want him here, and I don't want to be his pen pal, I want to be his girlfriend. I don't want "love ya," I want "love you."
And I don't want New Guy. I'm so sorry to say it, especially since he seems so into it. Actually, maybe that's why I'm not interested. What kind of 41-year-old man would be physically attracted to and intellectually stimulated by me? Must be something wrong with him, right?
I guess that's something to discuss with the new doc, Dr. R. (and best of luck in your new practice, Dr. H.). It kind of ties in with my abandonment complex, I guess; if nobody else finds me worthy of hanging around, I must be worthless. And if I'm worthless, what's this guy's problem?
The more I think about it, the more I should, I realize, hate Hot Mess for the number that he's done on my psyche and my self-esteem. He's made it quite clear that he doesn't give two shits, and I've internalized it to believe that I'm not worth two shits.
And even recognizing this, I still can't imagine being able to let him go. Now that's sick.
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