trying and failing. Or is it flailing?

"when you're too in love to let it go,
but if you never try, then you'll never know
just what you're worth..."

(Am I worth more than this?)

I sometimes think I'm settling. That all of this yeah-sure-I'm-fine-with-it attitude, where I try to be understanding is really just a load of bullshit. Because right now I'm sitting here alone, wishing I wasn't, and knowing that I can't really be upset because I said I wouldn't be. And I keep my promises. At least I do my damndest to. But it's starting to feel like I've been working at trying to be a better person - really making a conscious effort - and I'm not seeing the results. And I know I'm just saying that right now because I feel hopeless. But this is what happens when plans fall through. I'm not sure why things like this affect me so much. Well, I know why this specific time it's so bad, but in general, plans falling through has always really bothered me and been able to throw me into a funk.

But this time, it's because of the specific circumstances. The fact that I'm leaving in 19 days. And that I haven't seen P since March. And that P is often the only person who fully understands me and doesn't judge me. And of course, all I want at this moment is a hug, to curl up in the basement and watch stupid movies while he runs his hands through my hair, because I can't have that.

I'm becoming very aware of the fact that it's so much worse to miss someone when they're a mile away from you than when they're half a world away. It's worse to not be able to touch them when they're in reach than to accept that it's a physical impossibility to be with them. That, I can accept, because it means there's hope that maybe sometime in the future, being together might be an option. But when we're in the same place and still can't be together - just physically, literally in one another's presence is all I want - I can't help feeling like there's something wrong with me. So I'll settle for putting on P's shirt and pretending it still smells the way I remember P smelling. Disregarding the fact that I've washed it a dozen times since I got it on New Year's.

Which then exacerbates my guilt for realizing how much I need other people. I can't be alone. I need friends, lovers, sex. I sometimes wonder if I am actually a product of these other people... If there's anything original about me. I feel like there might not be.

And I don't think that's a particularly good thing.