I Finally Realised

Dominic came here for the weekend. Not really big news is it?

The thing is, we had, once again been fighting. This is something we do a lot of these days. More often than not it is my fault. I know this, but still feel the need to lash out at him.

I know why I do this. It became frighteningly clear this afternoon.

I am not good at being alone.

This wasn't always the case. There have been times where I was amazingly good at being by myself and was no good with people. But with Dominic it is the exact opposite. Allow me to explain.

Even when we first started talking I'd look forward to seeing him sign in to msn; I realise that this is sad and pathetic but it's true. He was, from the very beginning someone I could talk to about anything and he didn't think I was mental, or if he did never said anything about it.

He quickly became my best friend. I could tell him things I didn't tell anyone else and he was always supportive. Not to mention the fact that he always knew exactly what to say and when to say it.

Once we got together properly things changed. He went from being my best friend to someone who I never wanted to be apart from.

In the beginning when he'd stay with me overnight I'd stay awake watching him while he slept; just to make the most of the few hours he'd be around.

Once we became serious and moved in together things changed again. That's when the fighting started. I think it's because we had no escape from eachother. As much as I wanted to be around him I needed to have somewhere I could go to be by myself. Neither of us had this.

Then came uni. The thing we both knew was coming. That wonderful move to Birmingham that put 200 miles between us.

Cue more fighting.

It has been almost constant since we've been apart. The reason being: my paranoia.

I convince myself that hes up to something he shouldn't be. This often leads to fights where one of us threatens to leave.

However, while he was here over the weekend things were pretty much perfect.

We were close and cuddly and didn't leave eachother for more than 5 minutes at a time.

Then when he left on Sunday night I felt amazingly empty. Almost as though a large chunk of me had just been ripped out.

I couldn't sleep last night. I haven't wanted to eat and it all comes down to the fact that I miss him as soon as he leaves. It feels like Ive been abandoned.

It would be all to easy to compare me to one of those stray dogs you see on Dog's Trust and RSPCA adverts. My default state is depressed, I cry for no apparent reason and I feel generally sick all of the time.

So now I'm spending my week waiting for the next time I get to see him. That being halloween. We're going out, which means fancy dress. Which should be fun ... once we get back to his room anyway.