I’m No Good At Relationships, I’m Only Good At Beginnings
I keep thinking that I must want too much. I must expect too much. If I don’t, then why do I feel like no one can possibly give it to me?
By Amy Horton
I am honestly beginning to believe that I am incapable of maintaining a relationship for any length of time.
I’m a fan of the honeymoon stage. I’m a fan of the beginning, when everything is shiny and new and exciting. Before they take me for granted. Before they disappoint me. Before they make me realize that no one is ever going to find me as important as I hope they will.
I have no fucking clue how to navigate a relationship without it falling apart.
It’s not a matter of effort. I’ve done so much work to try and figure out why I’m like this and how I can fix it. I keep thinking I’ve finally progressed, only to realize how I’m failing when presented with an actual real-life romantic situation.
I don’t know what to do, so I might as well walk away before I ruin everything per usual.
I keep thinking that I must want too much. I must expect too much. If I don’t, then why do I feel like no one can possibly give it to me?
It’s depressing and defeating. I don’t want to be single, but I also feel like it’s a hell of a lot easier than trying to date anyone.
I keep hoping that the gooey feeling will last with someone someday. It has to be possible… or does it? It sure does feel like I’m chasing a pipe dream. I’m so tired of gazing at someone with adoration, only to realize that they’re already treating me like another forgotten toy on the shelf. I always end up pushed to the back for other priorities sooner or later. It makes me feel stupidly naive, like Charlie Brown trying over and over again to kick that damn football in spite of my better judgment.
I’m weary of ending up in situations where I feel like I can’t speak up for what I feel and what I want. Every single time I try to leap, I end up with someone emotionally unavailable. I always think that this time it’s different. Guess what? It never is. It’s terrifying to realize that my instincts are basically pulverized and I don’t know that they’ll ever recover.
I could write a thousand pages and still not work through the massive pile of issues I harbor.
I don’t want to go my entire life without lasting love, but I’m resigned to the fact that I may.
I feel so broken.