Because it all amounts to nothing in the end.

I wrote a post earlier. But my fucking horrible internet connection, coupled with my notion that perhaps it was just an angst-fuelled rant that no one should ever read, prevented me from publishing the post. Or even saving it for that matter (read: horrible internet connection)

However, as I am lying in bed, trying to get a bit of sleep and get rid of my jet lag (which is soooo not happening, at least for the next few days), I'm still fuelled by rage and almost-demonic levels of frustration. And so, I shall blog, in an effort to quel the seeping thoughts of near-suicidal hurt.

If you know anything about me at all, I will come across as mildly dramatic and slightly expressive. The more you get to know me, the more you realise, that is a drastic understatement.

My powers to over-analyse the smallest detail have brought me both great knowledge in my academic life, and great pain in my emotional relationships. I try to find patterns and links in certain things, subconsciously telling myself that history always repeats itself. And I'm, at my worst, a blob of complete insecurity, hankering for external validation from anyone and everyone.

Which brings me to my next point - I am not good at long distance relationships.

I have never been, and I never will be. 

I am, at my very core, very affectionate, expressive, and a hopeless romantic. I dream of getting flowers, chocolates, my significant other surprising me in the littlest ways. Spending precious moments together, and everything else under the sun. An LDR does not get you that. Especially when your significant other is so horribly bad at LDRs. 

I say I'm bad at LDRs, but I try. I know I miss him a terrible lot. I try to message him whenever I can, whenever I think of something funny that he'd love, I'll share it with him on Facebook. Whenever he's online, I quickly take that opportunity to say 'hi!' It's bad enough that he has no whatsapp on his phone while being in America. It just means that we have to try harder to communicate.

When I say we, I suppose I mean me. Because he sure as hell ain't doing fuck shit.

Before I got into this, I already (we already) knew it was going to be hard. But he is (was?) such a loving boyfriend, so sweet to me, and I thought I found someone who was so similar, yet so different. It was pretty perfect. But he is so fucking shit at LDRs. He doesn't understand the concept of making time to talk.

When we were talking about having to be apart for 2.5 months, he said we would make time, we would skype each other a lot. I haven't seen his face in more than a week. He was supposed to skype with me on Tuesday but he came down with food poisoning. Fair enough. I was annoyed, but I surely couldn't blame the guy. On Wednesday, I left for Singapore, and landed on Thursday.

He briefly chatted with me, perhaps in a conversation that you have with a close friend (at best). Just very general 'glad you arrived safe', 'how are you' sort of pitiful nonsensical drivel you spurn when you don't have anything else better to say to someone you're forced to communicate with.

Oh, but here is the humdinger! He told me he couldn't skype then because he needed to eat breakfast. I honestly think that is the most fucking lame excuse ever concocted by mankind. I mean, even dogs DO enjoy the occasional notepad paper. (Here, I am awkwardly referring to the ever-so-popular 'dog ate my homework' excuse.)

Yes, I do understand that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and God forbid you skip it, ever! But is it honestly so unreasonable of me to maybe expect him to call me and talk to me a bit before eating?

I understand that his laptop is shit, and his phone is hopeless, and he is in Texas on holiday to meet up with his mates and everything like that. But to me, that's just excuse after excuse, piled up on each other like dung on a hot day. 

I just miss him so fucking much. But it's like he doesn't give a flying fuck. I know he loves me, I don't doubt it. I just think that I need more. I need to know that he misses me too. Misses me enough to count the hours until I wake up, misses me enough to constantly check if I'm on Facebook so we can talk.

But of course, I'm probably the only idiot doing that.

I'm so sick of feeling this way. I honestly am. I want to talk to him about it but I don't even know where to begin.

Maybe I really shouldn't be getting into a relationship in my 20s.