the show must go on?

After the thought train of last night, I decided that today I would not contact said person. At all. I wondered if perhaps they would notice the lack of attention? They will be forced to see me tomorrow night, so what is one day in the scheme of things?

God, I wish it were so easy. This deliberate withdrawing is driving me crazy! At least I'm seeing how attached I am. Although, that's useless information. I already knew that I was this entwined; I still haven't figured how to remedy it, or even if I want to. When I'm not participating in this self-deluding exercise, I estimate I think about this person a few times a day. Today, I'd say it's been every thirty seconds (excluding the three hour presentation at work - that was obviously interesting enough to hold my attention!).

Who knew it was so hard to disengage with just one person. It's not like I'm pulling away from the entire human race; I could imagine that would be very hard. This is one person, only one! And yes, it is someone I hold very close to my heart, but it wasn't like this when I moved out of home for the first time (for example). I missed my mum terribly. I probably thought about her every day. Even then, I only spoke to her every few days, as I still do now. How the hell did this one little soul wrap his claws around not only my heart, but also my brain?

I think some part of me must take great pleasure in driving myself mad. This idea, this withholding of contact, which seemed so wise at the time, is making me crazy. Right now I am using every grain of willpower to my name not to 'call and say hi!'. The sad thing, I guess, is that I have felt this before. The insatiable need just to hear the voice; the reassurance of that particular intonation. In this second, I want so badly to be able to disengage and not care. A mirror to how I have felt. That was the purpose of the exercise, wasn't it? To make the other person feel how I've been feeling?

It's possible I haven't even been missed. Maybe I'm too demanding in general? The constant fear I have is of not being wanted. I think I would rather be despised. At least that way there would be a reason; a logic that I would, despite the inevitable emotional turmoil, be able to understand. This waning of interest is like murder to me. A slow and painful death.

Which then leads me to notice that I am likely to do something stupid. Act out in some way to cause one of two results: get attention or upset and enrage. Either would be better than this current tide of raised eyebrows and sighing indifference.