I made a choice. A potentially stupid choice, that could also potentially be completely useless. However, it was a choice that I chose to make. I acted. I drove my car over there knowing full well what could happen, and that I would risk getting my heart broken by the same guy again.
It’s not love that’s driving me. I don’t know when or how love will come to me again. I have a feeling that my feelings around love will always be somewhat complex and ever-changing.
It’s hope. It may be that by spending the night with him I have completely lost my marbles and screwed everything up. It might show that I am a complete idiot who loves inducing possible self destruction. I am hopeful that by putting in the effort, by showing him that I care, by spending time with him, maybe he will come around and be hopeful too.
When he was holding me in the morning and I tried to get up to go to the bathroom he said “don’t go.” That doesn’t sound like someone who’s not interested. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s completely given up.
What do I know, though? Life is complicated. Feelings are complicated. Hope simply adds to the complication and causes us to make choices that we don’t necessarily regret, but we know weren’t the most intelligent of decisions. It was a decision I made. If it’s the last time he is going to hold me, then it was the right decision. One more time being held by him made all the difference.