To Be Someones’ Whole Enchilada

Standard

Life has been erratic. More diminishing than I’d like to admit. I read through his messages and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy floods me. He has needs and wants, like all of us do, but for him I just can’t seem to fit that role for fear he will ruin his “sweet and virtuous” view of me. He can’t compartmentalized.  His desperate need to go out and conquer has weakened me to the point that I wonder if I would be better off alone, but the thought of my life without him would be desolate. I’m faced with a choice between two unsatisfactory options. He is my everything and I simply want that in return. Enough, like I always stated from the beginning. Enough to be all he requires and to experience the mutual satisfaction that everything he wants is in one person, as he is for me. But he has shut me out on purpose, and I have lost the will to fight. I took the hard road in hopes that I could help him find that missing part of him, but I don’t feel like I’m the connecting puzzle piece. Jenna, even though she is also a threat to my feeling of worth in his life, is also the refuge I hope that can bridge the gap between him and myself. I want to be that role of an anchor that she has become in his life. He is my best friend and I open every part that is me to him, but others have bits of him that I’m not allowed to have; leaving me longing and lonely. As understanding as I want to be about the open relationship, it has become a BURDEN in my life. I have come to acknowledge that even though his arguments for being open may have logic and reason behind them, the simple fact of my nature thwarts them all in my head as I realized that there were moments when I legitimately didn’t need anyone else but him, and all I want is the same reciprocity. In the beginning I honestly believed I needed it also, considering the numerous times I have cheated or lusted for others, but instead I’ve come to realize that I simply wasn’t receiving what I needed and was only longing for the fulfillment of completeness. If only I could be what makes him complete, but I fear I will never be that for him, and that in itself is an unbearable pain that I’m not certain I can face day in and out for the rest of my existence.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s