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Come Over, Smoke Weed, Have Sex: Giving Up on Love, A Rant

I had to learn to stop looking for acceptance and love and fleeting pleasures on the outside. I realized I was using these things to run away, to hide from what was really eating me inside.
I wanted sex, not because I cared for it but because it helped me feel like he cared for me. And I wanted him to care for me, to love me the way I hadn't yet known to Love myself.
I wanted to get high, only because it helped me attain a different feeling from what was currently passing through me.
I decided that night that I'd had enough. Enough of needing or wanting anything external of me.
It was time to learn to love myself. To accept me. To feel the hurt and feel it anyway. To not run away from it. I was done masking it and willing it off by pretending the pain wasn't there.

So I stayed in bed and cried. I cried and I prayed and I cried some more.
I said "Fuck it! I am going to find out what I need and I am going to give it to me."

That night I called him again. I picked up the phone, dialed his number and when he picked up I found myself crying and telling him I hated him cause he'd hurt me.
I wanted him to feel what I was feeling, to know that I was in pain and perhaps give him some of it too.
Or maybe I wanted him to validate his love for me, even though I had earlier told myself I was better off without him.
I asked him to come over, to prove that he cared. "If anything meant anything to you, you'd come over right now." I cried into the phone.
I knew he would say yes.
He always said yes.
It was the most I got from him in the two years we dated.
Come over.
Smoke weed.
Have sex.
Do it again next weekend.
And here I was, one month apart and going back.

Hell no!
After I hung up the phone, I texted him immediately and told him to forget it.
"Goodbye," I wrote. "We are over."
And in that moment I found a strength I didn't know that I still had.
I found myself saying no, saying no to repeating the same steps from my past. Saying no to sex, as that was what I really craved, the drug to suppress the real pain I was feeling.
And that night I knew I had won.
I had won the fight for attention, the fight for external validation.
I was lonely, bitter, in need and vulnerable, but I was going to find contentment within and with myself. I was giving up on bad Love, if I could call it that, but I was fine by the decision.
I knew it was going to be a long arduous journey ahead,  but it was also the Journey I needed to be on to get out of the pain that was eating me alive.

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