So today, before I went to work, I called him. I know I shouldn't have, but I just couldn't resist the urge. I knew he wouldn't be home, he was at work, it was 2 o'clock, but I wanted to leave him a message. All I wanted to tell him was to be careful driving around today because I heard that it was supposed to turn from snow to snow and rain and sleet and freezing rain by the end of the day. I worry about him. I really do. I shouldn't. I should just try my damndest to ignore him. I can ignore my family's drinking problems, but not him? But anyways, so I left him that message, telling him to be careful please, and I said that I had to work all day so I probably wouldn't talk to him today. Why the fuck did I do that? I should have just left it at 'please be careful' but instead I told him that I wished we could talk today but I couldn't. I'm so pathetic. I really, truely, am sick of being the desperate one. I'm sick of argueing with him about why we should be together. I can't count how many times I've told him this too, and yet I continue doing it. I should just stop. He told me that we had fucked us up this time because we had forgotten to JUST be friends. When we broke up, and were still talking, we agreed to try to be friends. Well, then we stopped talking because of what Jess and I did to him and his friend. When he and I started talking again, it was because he had called me and professed his love for me. I had thought that we were never going to speak again, and that was ok because I had a new guy, Karl, to treat me right. To this day, I still wish that Mitch hadn't called me that night. It was the night that Karl had asked me out, and I liked him very much, but when Mitch called, I fell back into old habits. Jumping for him. He said 'jump' I asked 'how high'. It's always been like that with every guy I've been with, but every other one, I've been able to get over. Not him though. He's been tattoo'd to my heart. Even laser surgery wouldn't work to get him out of it. I hate the fact that I can write/type down that I wish he hadn't called me that night, but I'm lying. As Kristen said, if I hadn't answered that night, I would spend the rest of my life wondering "what if?", and that's a lousy thing to have to ponder. I'm soo glad that he did call that night, and that he let me know how he feels about me, but I don't understand why we aren't together if he loves me so much? I don't really want an answer to that. I know the answer.
I don't know if he's capable of love. Honestly. He treats me like shit sometimes, but other times he's soo wonderful to me, I never want to leave the safety and comfort of his arms. He tells me he loves me all the time. I can't handle him jerking me around all the time, but I know that if he calls me again this weekend asking if he can pick me up because he's drunk and missing me, I'll again ask "how high?", and end up regretting it by Sunday night/Monday morning. I know I should just not answer the phone if he calls this weekend, or say no if I do answer, but we both know that I won't have the will power. He's a drug to me, I can't get enough. I'm addicted. Boogers.