Much like pineapples, I am hardcore. (thisgirliknow) wrote,
Much like pineapples, I am hardcore.

I did a very stupid thing and I called him, because it was the only possible way that I could have atleast one thing that I wanted at the moment. We talked, and it's over. It's really really over, and there's nothing that I can take back and there's nothing that I can do to change it, so now I'm just Ms. Desperate Girl who fell in love with a boy who will never love her back as much, and she doesn't care and wants to be with him anyway.

Yes, after all this, after all the pain and suffering of seeing what it's like without him (and knowing that yes, the first days after a breakup are hard), I realized that I may have made a mistake in the first place, and now I want nothing more than Ron showing up at my door and being the uncaring, aloof, christian Republican self that he is. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for breaking up with him, and I hate myself more for not being able to handle the decision that I made. I hate that he isn't the one for me because I want so badly for him to be. I want to be that right girl for him and I want him to be the boy for me and I know that isn't how it is.

I hate him for having so much control over me in my wants for him, and I hate how he doesn't seem to care that we've broken up. I just really dislike the whole situation and how I handled it. I thought I was getting better at breaking up. More practice, you know? Less cowardice, more civilized action, but I have NEVER wanted to be the desperate girl who thinks of changing or compromising her morals and values to be with the guy who won't compromise for her.

I love him so much. And by love, I mean the all-consuming rage that has entered my body and refuses to leave. Pure, passionate loving hatred.

And now it seems like he's broken up with me, by not wanting to give it any chance, and by refusing to acknowledge that we might have a chance.

And I still didn't find out what he wants me to do with a few extra things I found that he left here.

And Mr. and Mrs. Sweeney, or "Ed and Cathy" as I was never asked to call you... please stop reading my journal.

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