DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry #178 - should i stay or should i go

'Hey Cherry, it's all good. I'm here'. He speaks, rushing to me, and only holding himself back from throwing his arms around me when I give him the 'stop' hand sign. As unmistakable and as painful on my side as it can get, because it's no easy to say no to a hug from the only person in the world who could calm me down now. Because yeah, he broke me, but I'm smart (although he thinks I ain't, bless him), and I know that if I only respected myself less, I'd totally let him hug me and put me back together from the ashes that he made of me not so long ago. It'd just take a hug, a back rub, a kiss on the forehead and a well-crafted joke, all decorated with an 'I'm sorry, I love you', and I'd be his all over again, without additional questioning and with zero hard feelings. But I am slightly more complicated than this, I don't wanna calm down, and maybe I don't even wanna be chased and won back. At this point, I'm pretty sure I just want out of this affair, and out of this fucking cursed in the ass tour by tomorrow morning. My strong sense of pride is telling me that for as much as I still love him and wouldn't say no having hugs with him and to being his girlfriend forever... I can't let my heart win over my mind. And that's the reason why I harden the first, and wrap the latter around staying as cold as I can towards him. Couldn't be any other way: he's here, telling me that it's all good because he's back at me, and that he's gonna take care of me and send this panic attack of mine to fuck like he always does. Sounds tempting, but I'm broken, and just looking at his sorrowed, but ever so beautiful brown eyes (my goodness, they're the most beautiful ones I've ever seen in my life) is impairing me and making me shake some more. And between dying on my panic attack and murdering my pride and my credibility for a man who doesn't even know how to respect me after a night out with his friends ... well man, I'll always take the first. With a side of humbling, because in all of this trying to show me that he's here for me, he's also silently, slightly very politely reminding me that I'm looking and acting like... a mess. And wow. I knew it already, but hearing it from him in such concealed, oddly respectful words? Hits different. Hits heavier than that one makeup bag he threw my way when he was at his absolute worst, that's for sure.

'Yeah, all good thank you ... the best I've ever been'. I sarcastically comment, as I walk right past him, I do my best to dodge him, and in the end I just sit back on the armchair he's just freed. I cover myself with the blanket that Zakk gave me not so long ago, and I let myself shake as much as my body needs, in the hope that it's going to make my panic attack subside once and for all. The cringe is real here, the guy who gave me these shakes (and then some) and I are having a civilised exchange in front of the only few people I'd swear upon in this life... and he's walking towards me, hands in his pockets and muffled smile on his lips that makes him look even more beautiful than he does when he's frowning. He sits right by my side, tucks me under the blanket and rubs my hair, and although he's being nothing but sweet and respectful to me... I push him away and grunt out loud, to let him know that he gotta take his attention and his hands away from me. If I'm in this state now, it's all his fault, and we all know it. He knows it so well that he's here now, chasing me instead of sleeping on what he's done to me, or instead of letting me simmer a bit. Does he think he can always track me down after having treated me like shit, apologise, give me a hug and a rub, and I'll be back between his arms like nothing happened? I don't work like that. I need to receive the same kind of love that I give, or I'll leave the moment I'll feel like it ain't reciprocated the way it should be. I love very rarely, but when I love, I love hard, and he's about the same. His flame lights mine and vice versa. We are made for eachother and it's under everyone's eyes, not just ours. He loves me and he's the sweetest when he's legit, I've seen soft sides of him that he's never allowed anyone to see, but then he has these random moments in which he's unrecognisable and very fucking much into hurting me. He made a fool of me once, he hurt my pride, I cried for that and threatened to leave, and he began to chase me and court me like crazy. That until he won me back, I forgave him, and it turned out to be the best decision of my life. But that was for nothing: in the end, he didn't learn one thing from his past mistakes. He still takes me for granted and sees me as the ultimate end of his any tantrum, and tonight was the proof that he will never change. The proof that I will never be able to turn a square into a circle, no matter the amount of love and passion I may put into it. Understand me, I love him the way he is and I would never want to change him, but I'd love him more and I'd feel safer to be with him, if he didn't physically or verbally threaten me when he's mad at someone else. Because at this point, judging by the fact that he's here now, being all apologetical and thoughtful and still wanting me, it's clear that I was never his fucking problem to begin with.