“I’m done.”

Those are the last words of my last email to GT.  Maybe not my final email, but the last one I sent.  I need some time to breathe, some space to figure out why it is I always need someone to pine for.  I have never been without a fixation, and that fixation has always been one boy or another.

The good news, and I’m really quite happy about this, is that I’m learning to walk away.  This isn’t fun anymore, I’m done.  You obviously don’t return my enthusiasm, I’m done.   I don’t want to be sad about you anymore, so I’ve decided to stop.

Done.

I’m very good at thinking things through tautologically.  Does that even make sense?  I’ve been awake for almost 22 hours and I spent about 5.5 of those hours driving, so my brain is a bit muzzy, but what I mean is: The fact that he won’t make time to hang out with me means that he won’t make time to hang out with me. Isn’t that enough?  The fact the he doesn’t like me as much as I like him means that he doesn’t like me as much as I like him.

I briefly dated someone when I was 20, who one day in an IM conversation asked “Why do you have to dig me so much?”  My reply was something along the lines of “That will no longer be an issue,” and WHAM!  Done.

Similarly, when someone tells me I’m “more vested in the idea” of our friendship than he is, I suddenly become a lot less vested.  When someone says I’m causing drama, my instinct is to EXIT STAGE LEFT.  And a few years ago I might have stuck around and tried to fix things, caused a fight maybe so we could make up again, the other night I said “Fuck that shit.  I’m done.”

I’m rather fetching.  I’m cute, smart, funny, and willing to drive long distances to see a friend or pursue a good time.  I don’t have much but I share what I have.  I will be your getaway driver and your partner in crime.  I’ll comfort you when you’re sad, and if you want to talk about it that’s cool, and if you don’t want to talk about it I won’t make you.  I’ll hold you when you need it, let you cry if you need to, laugh at your jokes and put out enthusiastically.  I’ve got some serious flaws and some considerable issues but I am a fucking catch.

You don’t think so?  Fuck that shit.  I’m done.