thought receptacle: when you are


In a committed relationship, it’s easy to lose yourself in it; it’s easy to let it define you. It happens all the time with couples, doesn’t it? Two people begin dating. Before you know it, “he” and “she” become a merged “they”, “we”, “us”, converging into one single entity. A collective identity.

My entire life, I’ve valued my independence. Individuality. Self-sufficiency. Self. Me. My identity has never been derived from my relationships with other people. Naturally, this applies to all different kinds of relationships — friendships as well — but specifically, I have encountered so many weak women whose happiness and very breath of life are so wholly dependent on, and defined by, their men. I do not let myself rely on others in that way. Of course, this does not mean I am incapable of feeling. When I love, it is obvious. I love so obviously. My relationship means everything to me, but I am proud of my ability to exist outside it. I guard it. I can (and need to) function independently outside of “us”.

The reality of being in a long-term long-distance relationship, however, means that I’ve had to live with this loneliness that haunts me for days and weeks at a time. Despite my efforts to secure my independence, this emptiness — this lack of a human physical connection — carves out an aching space that I am still learning how to cope with.

Jesus, Jodie, you suck. This entry is basically a combination of this one that I wrote back in February and this one that I wrote in April. You may not have stolen the entries word for word this time, but did you really think I wouldn’t notice you taking apart my writing and piecing it back together? 

I’m not going to ask you to take it down, because I get that you’re also in a long-distance relationship and, like, have your own feelings and shit that you added on top of the ones I’ve already expressed in words. So whatever. I just hope you know that I’m never going to stop checking your blog and that I continue to think it’s weird that you’re just, you know, stalking me and saving my writing in some folder on your computer so that you can repost it months later, all the while crossing your fingers and hoping that I won’t notice.