The things I put myself through, and bash myself up for

There are certain things I do that leave myself bewildered. Actions that repeatedly tell myself not to do, but I still do anyway, and then the vicious cycle continues, and sigh, I wonder why.

Classic example, like today, my dearest boyfriend asked me if I wanted to go watch him play soccer. The following thought process will then proceed to run through my head: I don't get to see him much, what harm would it be if I just go down to watch him play, I just want to spend time together with him.

When I'm there, we don't talk, he doesn't even look at me, I get irritated cos I go all the way there to watch him play and he doesn't even acknowledge my presence, I remind myself not to come the next time, I get even more irritated cos he's going to spend all the Sundays in the entire month of September playing soccer, which effectively leaves a couple of hours I'll see him a week, excluding half the Saturday we spend sleeping like there's no tomorrow. It probably will be even less considering the number of events I have in September.

I spend half my journey home feeling pissed cos he didn't even bother saying hi, one-quarter of it feeling worried that he's in pain, the remaining quarter thinking that since he wanted to play, he shouldn't be complaining. Following which, I send myself into the vicious cycle again, telling myself I will NOT attend any of the Sunday games cos I'd end up feeling like I wasted my time, and pissed and upset cos I'm of less importance than the idiotic ball. In the end, I get pissed at myself for knowing that ultimately, I'll still go, and that I'm unable to stick to what I initially planned to do - which is humiliatingly upsetting to come to terms with.

Most of the time, I can't decide if I'm more pissed at myself cos I would put in effort to not dress too sloppily so that he wouldn't 'lose face' in front of his colleagues. While the feelings build up, I start to feel silly for even bothering cos I'm not introduced anyway. It probably wouldn't matter if I turned up in an old, raggy t-shirt and ratty shorts. Then again, I'd be too embarrassed about myself.

Once again, I tell myself, I shall leave him alone and spend my Sunday at home in peace, and let him miss me for a little bit. Oh, shut up Sheena.

I'm out.