the way we get used to things

I found this in a Google Doc while going through some old writing. I've deleted a lot of things over the years that I wasn't a huge fan of, but I saved a few things. It's nice to stumble upon stuff like this, it's nice to have a moment to reflect on what I was feeling during that time. It's easy to want to forget an experience that we had that may have felt horrible at the time.

_

In the past things like this didn’t hit me as hard.

Waking up was easier, finding distractions was simpler. All it took was time to myself and a few songs to mend my soul. I’ve never truly felt this distinctive sadness when I’ve been pulled away from people. It’s always been anger, anxiety, bits of frustration thrown in, and dwindled down to nothing but a bitter memory. Nothing but melancholy.

You learn things about people, their mannerisms become something you expect. This goes for just about anybody, but it’s different when they were things you looked forward to. I didn’t realize that I looked forward to them until they were gone. It’s stupid stuff really. Not genuine things like how someone laughs or if they smile at themselves after they brush their teeth. It’s stupid stuff like the sound they make when they sniffle, or if they put their shirt on one arm at a time. They always have to snooze the alarm twenty times and complain when they're late. God forbid a bug ever landed on the TV; and somehow every night change would go in a change jar when I’ve never seen them carry cash.

There was something metaphorical about how the fitted sheet always had to be fixed; the sour look I’d get when I refused to help. There always had to be a compromise. There was always a promise to turn the volume down on the TV before they’d go to bed - and I could never find the remote when they’d ignore it.

A number of stupid things that could be considered annoyances. All of a sudden a switch was turned off and the noises I was used to were starting to vanish.

I’ve been sleeping in the dark all my life and now I need the TV on.

People talk about heartache like they’ve been stabbed, a piece was torn from them.

When no amount of apologies can be turned back around into ‘i forgive you’ - that’s the hardest part - no matter the circumstance all I need to hear is ‘i forgive you.’ because I’m not the kind of person who can live knowing someone resents me. Especially when they have no reason too. Especially when I have nothing to be sorry for.

I want to be angry. I want to be frustrated and throw things. I want to be woken up from this nightmare by the god-damn air-raid siren alarm. One more time I want to be frustrated that I can’t go back to sleep.

I keep telling myself that I was an inspiration - I don’t know how I could have possibly given someone the courage to want to move on with their progression. In reality, the only influence I had was the urge to seek attention. From a different perspective, it looked like I was suckered in. Now I admit that I probably was. In this great mess of things that turn my mind over, I’m brought back to the recollection of a conversation. A conversation in which I was told “I feel like I could be myself around you.”

When I look back at that moment I regret to say that the uncertainty I felt should not have been pushed aside.