Why do we do things we know are not good for us? I'm not talking about those activities such as drinking too much or smoking. I'm talking about those things that we know are just going to bring us down but aren't especially unhealthy.
My example, and the reason for this post involves the damned Myspace and a picture I could tell I didn't want to see.
Okay, a little history is in order. In early November of last year I was in what I thought were the early days of a beautiful relationship. Everything was great if perhaps a little quick. I had a delightful boyfriend who really seemed to like me, and I was slowly (quickly) falling in love.
November came, and Momma threw a birthday party for a friend on a Monday night. The weekend prior was spent without the boyfriend as he'd decided we needed to "do our own thing" for a couple of days.
I feel I've pieced together what really happened and have decided that he met another guy and wanted to go be with him. He called me the night of the party, the night he was supposed to be back in town to meet and hang out with me. He was stuck out of town and would see me as soon as he could.
Another day or so passes, and he's finally back in town and asks for a ride from work. I pick him up, thinking the best thoughts, happy to see him. He draws away from me when I try to hug and kiss him, and I start to realize something may not be quite right.
We need to talk, so we go outside where we can smoke, and he tells me the first story about why we can't be together. Sometime later, after he leaves, we talk again, and after some prodding he tells me a different story. A very few days later his status on Myspace has changed from "in a relationship" to "single" and then suddenly back to "in a relationship," and there are new pictures of him and another guy.
So the story I piece together is that I've been dumped for this other guy, and here's where the slightly unhealthy part comes in. I see tonight that he's got a new picture up, and I go to his photos to look at it, and it's actually a very sweet picture of him and the new guy. But instead of seeing sweet I see a place I can't ever be again, shoulders on which my head will never rest, arms that will never embrace me again the way they once did.
I was actually almost in a good mood before that. I've been fighting the depression most of the night, and I was even almost ready for bed. It doesn't take much to throw me off the rails lately, and now I'm almost afraid to go to bed.
I'm tired, but I don't want to lie awake yet again reliving what should have been, thinking about what was, picturing what is. I really need sleep, and I want to go to sleep, but I know myself too well.