[ that prickly frustration-irritation settles as Eve puts her head down and starts picking through that, but—
while some emotions are difficult for her to sort out, affection isn't one of them. ]
...Like and love are sort of on the same spectrum of feeling. I... fuck. I can't say for you when one turns into the other? But I would say that's definitely on the more intense end. Even if it's not romantic or anything like that.
Sorry. Like— fuck. If it were me I'd say that's love? But— fuck.
[ grumbling in the back of her throat, her feelings one big knot of worry and protectiveness ]
I'm not you, I'm going to feel differently about shit. So I'm not someone who gets to make that kind of decision for you.
If you want to say no, that's just like, that's fine. If you want to put it in a fucking box and not look at it until you're ready, that's fine. If it's really fucking you up, getting help with that part's important, sure? But also: fuck anyone who says you need to try to fucking force it.
apologetic (and anxious, and deeply, deeply affectionate in a way that is trying to be steadying): ]
I think that's a better question to ask— maybe a therapist, or something. I think it matters, because how you define shit matters, but that's... it's in a different direction? Than how it matters to know how- how a loss would hit you.
...Grief is the price we pay for joy, is... I think that's how the saying goes? And grief fucking sucks. But if you can manage to look it in the eye, and say "fuck you, that was worth it..."
[ longing. longing, and grief, and resignation, and spite ]
...I don't know. That's how I usually think about it, when the idea comes for me too hard.
...I know I've asked people for vibe checks relatively recently, after being told specifically that I could ask people for that if I didn't know if something was worth worrying about or not... I know I've vented to people, but usually after being invited to, I don't think I've ever gone to someone like 'can I vent to you'...
The person who brought this up told me that there's a big difference between being able to survive on your own and knowing you have other people you can rely on. And it's not, like. It's not like I think if I asked, people wouldn't help? It's just-
Fuck. I don't know what I'm trying to say anymore.
[Relief at being understood, coupled with more frustration about the topic in general.]
Asking's a vulnerability. And - usually I don't even think to ask. I don't think 'oh, I have friends who care about me, I don't have to do this alone'. I just take care of it myself automatically.
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while some emotions are difficult for her to sort out, affection isn't one of them. ]
...Like and love are sort of on the same spectrum of feeling. I... fuck. I can't say for you when one turns into the other? But I would say that's definitely on the more intense end. Even if it's not romantic or anything like that.
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[Breathe in. Breathe out.]
Okay. Okay, that's... okay. I'm okay.
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Sorry. Like— fuck. If it were me I'd say that's love? But— fuck.
[ grumbling in the back of her throat, her feelings one big knot of worry and protectiveness ]
I'm not you, I'm going to feel differently about shit. So I'm not someone who gets to make that kind of decision for you.
If you want to say no, that's just like, that's fine. If you want to put it in a fucking box and not look at it until you're ready, that's fine. If it's really fucking you up, getting help with that part's important, sure? But also: fuck anyone who says you need to try to fucking force it.
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Ah, yep, here come the tears. Reaching for a tissue now.]
I don't - it scares the shit out of me. Loving people you can lose - it's terrifying.
-But it'd hurt either way if I lost you, whatever I decided to call it, so does it even matter?
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apologetic (and anxious, and deeply, deeply affectionate in a way that is trying to be steadying): ]
I think that's a better question to ask— maybe a therapist, or something. I think it matters, because how you define shit matters, but that's... it's in a different direction? Than how it matters to know how- how a loss would hit you.
...Grief is the price we pay for joy, is... I think that's how the saying goes? And grief fucking sucks. But if you can manage to look it in the eye, and say "fuck you, that was worth it..."
[ longing. longing, and grief, and resignation, and spite ]
...I don't know. That's how I usually think about it, when the idea comes for me too hard.
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Yeah, that's - therapist stuff. Yeah. But, at least - I'm glad we're friends. I'm glad you're in my life.
[That counts for something, maybe everything.]
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Me too.
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...I think so? Mostly it's been me asking for shit.
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The person who brought this up told me that there's a big difference between being able to survive on your own and knowing you have other people you can rely on. And it's not, like. It's not like I think if I asked, people wouldn't help? It's just-
Fuck. I don't know what I'm trying to say anymore.
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No, I get it, I think. I... I've gotten better? At asking? But I still— I usually don't for anything that's actually important.
Asking's a vulnerability. And if you ask, and someone says "no"...
[ she trails off, and leaves the sentence there. ]
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Asking's a vulnerability. And - usually I don't even think to ask. I don't think 'oh, I have friends who care about me, I don't have to do this alone'. I just take care of it myself automatically.
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[...mrrr.]
I want to say 'if I really needed it I would ask for help'. But I genuinely don't know if that's true.
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...that's not something to be hard on yourself for. But... it is something to try to change. You deserve to have help when you really need it.
And even when you don't.
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I can work on it. Asking people for help more often. I might bug you again, if that's okay?
[Eve literally just said she deserves to get help but!!]
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It's always okay.
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Okay. -Thank you so much. I don't know about - calling it anything specific - but I'm glad you're in my life.