In the simplest terms, I got into girls because ... I lost *the* girl.
I lost her, and I cried every day.
I missed her, but what's more, deep down inside, I felt like I really had *lost* her.
I started seeing girls I guess to soften, to dampen the pain, to somehow recreate that intimacy. (Which, of course, as you well know, never happens.)
What's odd is, there was one time I met a girl, who, upon us talking (I talked to lots of these girls, heard their stories), told me she was doing this to prove to the world that she was a good lover. I knew from the way she talked about a broken-up relationship that she somehow felt she wasn't a good lover with her man, and this was her way of proving to the universe (i.e. herself), that she was good, adept.
I still ask myself what was I doing going to those girls. It was to deaden the pain of losing the one I cared for the most.
It was a loss that still shatters me inside. It still hurts.
I guess we reach for many vices, many addictions -- alcohol, drugs -- to kill the pain. To not let ourselves feel it.
I guess I'm tired of feeling it, the pain. But my head is inexorably screwed up, and I see there is a component to my body that is addicted to this stuff. All at the expense of intimacy.
I guess intimacy is what I miss most. I am deathly afraid of intimacy because I loved her so much and I lost her, that putting myself out there -- putting my heart out there again -- terrifies me.
It sounds silly to write it as words. It sounds superficial, somehow. Like it doesn't mean much. But the pain, it's hard to write about, hard to articulate as words.
It's more a feeling, a terror, a place my brain doesn't want to go.
But I have to admit, I miss her. I miss *that* -- that joy, that closeness we had. I miss it more than anything. I miss it more than the world.
I have to admit to myself that this is an addiction. The last time I cuddled with a woman, I can't remember when. I miss it. I miss having a family. I miss having love. I try to remember what that's like. For some reason I have problems thinking. There's a part of my brain that is unable to process this. This is definitely a cognitive problem, related to the addiction.
But I know I got into it as a way to escape the pain. I just wish the pain was not there anymore.
I hate my family. Because I once reached out to them for help and they turned me away. What are you supposed to do, when you need help, and ask for it, and are told no? That hurts as much as the addiction.
I guess I am stuck in blame, but the alternative, to take full responsibility for my life, means to be completely alone. And "alone" is what gets me reaching for it again. I've thought of a twelve-step group, a group to talk about these issues, perhaps this is what I need.
Moreover I just need friends.
I want my life back.