“Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible.”
It’s been a hundred days since Daisy and me ended. I can tell you that not because I’ve been obsessively keeping track of it with scratches on the wall like some prisoner, but because of a gift from Kat. When Kat was moving, she was getting rid of a lot of stuff, so I got this clock from her that has this ticker countdown with a certain number of events. Daisy and I were supposed to meet up for Christmas, and when that didn’t happen, I just reset the counter to nine hundred and ninety-nine, and just a few days ago, it hit eight hundred and ninety-nine.
I’ve probably talked about Daisy for more than anyone else in the history of my writing, and for good reason. It’s been a hundred days, and I’m guess I’m better. I have to be right? I know what I’ve been going through, hell, I’ve chronicled a bit of it here. I see her sometimes, and I just think that she’s handling all of this better than I am, and it makes me annoyed. Did I mean nothing to her?
It seems like it didn’t even faze her, and I don’t know how to take that. I want her to be happy, I really do, but I guess I didn’t expect her to be this happy, this soon. I know it’s childish and selfish, but I want to have mattered. To be nothing less than a speedbump, well, fucking hell. Everytime I want to get myself worked up over it, I just can’t seem to, because at the end of the day it doesn’t matter.
I will always love Daisy. I’m not saying that I’ll always be in love with her, but somehow, when I was at my worst, she saw something in me and made me believe that I mattered. I usually don’t struggle with the whole self-confidence thing, but when I do, it cuts deep. I don’t reach out, I usually just wallow in it. Somewhere in that pit she threw me a lifeline when I was so close to just giving up on myself. She made me believe that beyond anything that I had to offer the world, or what I could offer anyone else, that someone out there just wanted me. Not my potential, not what I’ve done, not who I could possibly be, just me. All of it, all the neuroticism, all the faults, all the joys, every piece of me, without judgement. That’s what made it hurt more when Daisy decided it was over, because someone that I’d let in that close decided that it wasn’t enough, or that it wasn’t worth it.
But that’s the thing, for the first time, I think someone saw me, and wanted to be with me. Not the idea of me, just me. And for all the hurt that it brought afterwards, it changed me fundamentally as a person. It made me better, it made me more whole in a way that I’m not sure that I can put into words. Even though we don’t talk the same way, or even talk at all sometime, she’s kind of become the voice in my head shouting down my demons. It’s been a hundred days and I don’t miss Daisy as much anymore. I don’t thinking about her as much anymore. I don’t dream about her as much any more. It’s funny, I don’t miss her that much any more when I’m in a shitty place, she’s given me the ammo I need to fight my way out of that, but I miss her the most when I’m happy. I miss having someone to share that with, to share that joy of having a good day.
I’ll be honest, back when I would think about the ideal woman, Daisy would never have in a million years have popped into my mind. After the fact, I realized that she was better than any dream girl, because she was real. She’s one of those people who steps into your life and changes how you see the world, and once that happens you can’t go back, for better or worse, and for me, it was definitely for the better. So yeah, it’s been a hundred days, but it’s a process right? I’m getting back to normal, and I guess it seems you’ve been back to yourself for a while, so good for you. Hopefully we can get back to before, just two friends who could talk about everything and nothing. And that’s all I can realistically hope for, for the time being.
I think this will be the last time I write about Daisy, for a long time. Not because I’m out of things to write, but because I think the hurt has finally come to a place where I don’t need to write about it to cope with it. Life goes on, and maybe it’s time to throw myself out there again. So, here’s to new stories, more misadventures, and no fear of heartbreak. I’ll try not to be jealous that you’re happy without me. I’m gonna have to remember how to meet women and go on a damn date again. To have to try to create something from nothing—well, fuck. Maybe I’ll spend another hundred days being a shut-in.
But no, it’s out there, somewhere. I’m not entirely sure what “it” is, but all that means is that I have to keep looking out there, somewhere, and I won’t stop until I’ve found it. Daisy made sure as hell that I knew that.
See green eyes, I was totally listening the whole time—-
So, New York, let’s reintroduce ourselves shall we? Time to get into trouble…