I lost control, and I think it was self preservation, mostly

Posted on October 6, 2013


… I’m not proud of it ladies, but I lost control of my temper with someone this weekend.

It’s a weird one isn’t it, when you lose control. When you are so overcome with emotion that you feel vulnerable beyond belief. You cry, you get angry, you launch an attack. Be it by phone, text, email or face to face.

I went to meet the great love, to hear him out. Let him explain to me why he disappeared on me. Again.





I went to do the grown up thing. To stand before him, hear him out, then tell him to his face that it wasn’t ever going to happen between us. That we were done. I needed to do it, to draw a line under it, to make it clear that we were over. He had seemed to think there was still something between us and I needed to break the spell.

Only he told me things I didn’t expect to hear. And that made it more difficult than I could ever have imagined.

I didn’t handle it very well. I wasn’t strong enough to push away old feelings that resurfaced.

We found ourselves in G.A.Y and laughed at the irony of how we looked like a vanilla couple on some sort of adventure. Little did the people in there know just how ironic that was.

His eyes welled up when it sunk in that we weren’t necessarily going to end up together one day. And my heart broke.

He put his hand out, palm facing up. I would usually put my hand into his. Small against the freakishly large hand that I loved so much.

But I couldn’t.

And it hurt him. Made him realise this was it. He got up to leave, but I couldn’t let him go. I told him, just stay. Let’s not end this, this way. I said, let’s be normal together. And just enjoy our last night together. I made him stay with me. I know this is where I went wrong but I wasn’t ready to let him go.

We crashed a work party from the place i’m freelancing at, we went for a burger. He laughed at me for eating my burger with a knife and fork. That laugh that makes me so warm inside. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We reminisced. We kissed.

But when it came down to it, I couldn’t bring myself to carry on like nothing had happened.

We ended up delaying the inevitable for as long as possible but saying goodbye is never easy, perfect or ideal. We created the faux argument that couples always do to somehow make it easier to walk away; and then that’s exactly what I did, walk away, in slow and heavy motion, prompted repeatedly by him to run for a train I really didn’t want to get.

I couldn’t sleep that night.

Thoughts engulfed me.

I dreamed of him.

I woke up in a sweat.

I was scared to go back to sleep. My mind was buzzing with a whirlpool of emotion… love, frustration, anger, fear, anxiety, panic, love.

I sent him text messages at 5am. I called him at 5:30. In tearful haze.

I dreamed of him again, this time cruelly in my bed. Kissing me. Touching me. Driving me insane. As if i’d brought him home with me and our night had simply just carried on.


I woke up crying. I spoke to him on the phone crying.

We desperately clung onto the notion that maybe we could have another stab at saying goodbye, at processing this all. That maybe we could be friends, we said. Hopefully. Not really believing our own hope.

In an almost slightly unhinged attempt at destroying an any chance of the above, I have spent the last few days shouting at him. Texts, emails, texts. Angry messages. Drunken messages. Wistful messages. Needy. Emotional. Vulnerable. Angry.

He’s replied to non of them. No major surprise.

There’s no chance of him getting in touch now.


Looking back at an email from January 2012, this thing he said to me, just suddenly felt more relevant than ever:

‘What seems a bit silly? Us? Some of it was. Immensely silly. A lot of it was
also incredibly sublime. some of it was pretty intense, a metric fuck-tonne
of it was heartbreaking and just the tiniest part was far, far too
self-destructive to be healthy.’

Posted in: Journal, The Truth