broken (6)

Am I normal?
I don’t mean normal in the regular sense of it, because I know that I am not, and I love it that way. But I mean normal, like those ordinary processes that apply to human beings. For instance, the normal human being does not like pain. When he encounters pain, he fights to survive, and to make sure he avoids it as much as possible.
So why then am I different? Why is it that i cannot seem to leave the place where i am humiliated, yelled at, ignored? Why do I keep going back to begging, pleading for an almost impossible situation? How can it be that the happiest time I have experienced has been in the middle of a hug at the bus stop? Why is it that I go to that place without a particular aim, knowing it might not end well, but seeing his face just seems so much more important?
I am tired of talking to people. Because nobody really knows how I feel. All they can do is try to help, forecast, give advice. It’s like people looking in from the outside, telling me what they think. But it is not really helping, because there is nothing they say that I don’t already know. The issue is not knowing, but doing.
The real issue seems to be that I don’t know how to go about doing this. I don’t know how to not care. I don’t know how to. It’s not that i don’t want to . The good Lord knows that i am tired of all this pain. That I have so much at stake. But I don’t know how. I am not built to love and then stop loving. To care and then stop caring. I am not built for break ups. I don’t know how they are done.
I’ve got that just-can’t-be-without-him kind of love. The kind that makes one hug brighten up my world. The one where I need to hear his voice. The one that makes me do crazy things, and feel crazy things.
I don’t know what I’m going to do.