The relief of splitting
Honestly sometimes I’m grateful when my black and white thinking kicks in. It feels like a deep exhale after I’ve been unknowingly holding my breath.
My proclivity for self sabotage pervades every aspect of my existence, most noticeably in my intense desire for connection. I let myself be disrespected over and over and over, hoping for a change that was never on the cards. I wittingly seek out romantic connections that are unequivocally detrimental — the more unavailable, the better. I fall deeply for not the person, but the all-consuming feeling of desperation their inconsistency evokes in me. I purposefully surrender to my addiction to the push/pull, the emotional turmoil and the uncertainty, yet still wonder why I am never enough for them. I idolise the version of them Ive created in my mind, betraying myself as I continuously reward their bad behaviour.
Then one day, the final unassuming straw falls and I am released from my toxic daydream. Suddenly I see them for who they truly are, for who they’ve always been but I turned a blind eye to. Most of the time they aren’t a terrible person, but they certainly aren’t the idealisation I once believed them to be. They’re just a profoundly mediocre person. there’s honestly nothing noteworthy: they’re not kind, sweet or thoughtful. Not exceptionally talented, insightful or innovative like they are convinced they are. And I wonder how I was ever able to paint such an exquisite picture in my head of such an average man. The relief that comes from realising I feel absolutely nothing, bar slight disgust, towards someone who once dictated my mood is so fucking refreshing. I’m finally unchained from the self-made shackles to which I bound myself.
(momentary bliss until i inevitably decide to repeat the self destructive cycle again with someone new. I am just as pitiful as him, if not more)