Damaged

During my last relationship I thought he could carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Well, the weight of my world at least.

I’m not naive to think I’m not hard work. I always have been. I’ve always been one for overthinking, over analysing and over exaggerating. I’ve also been one for trusting, loving and seeing the best in people. Especially men.

So yeah, I’ve never been the easiest of girlfriends to have but what good thing ever comes easy? The boyfriends I have chosen on the other hand well, they’re not ones to talk. Let’s put it that way.

Now where was I? Oh yes, weight of my world. So yes, I’m hard work, I’ll admit it. Always have been. That’s just me. I’m not that bad. But then she died. All of a sudden she was gone and I now had grief to add to my list of “flaws”. He accepted it. He accepted it willingly. I thought he could handle it, I thought he understood. Really, I expected him to be able to read my mind. I expected him to know me well enough to know exactly how I was feeling and exactly what I was thinking. I blame him slightly – he set the bar high. He set my expectations to great heights.

When I say I thought he could carry the weight of my world on his shoulders, I really did. Because for a long time he acted as though he could. I think even for a short time he did. Maybe I was wrong to use him as a crutch like I did in those first months after her death. Maybe I was wrong to lean on him as much as I did. Maybe just maybe, I should of known he couldn’t handle it.

Turns out he had his own stuff going on. Turns out I was completely oblivious to that fact.

In the end I wasn’t the only one. I wasn’t the only one who was hard work. I wasn’t the only one who was damaged. I was the only one with a broken heart though. I swear I will never kid myself into thinking someone can handle the weight of my world again. I don’t think I overestimated him, I think he might of just underestimated the burden that is my life sometimes. I also think he could of been more honest, more upfront and communicated more. Not that it matters now.

I suppose I just want someone who can handle the shit. Someone who can see past it. Someone who can deal with it.

I should just come with a “baggage” sign. Or save every man the trouble and join a nunnery…

Thanks for reading x

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