Looking back

I'm not certain why it still bothers me.
It has been quite awhile since the house of cards fell down, and the friendships I thought I had fell apart.
But still, I find myself thinking upon it day after day. It pulls at my heart and puts a weary glance in my eye.
I think the issue was that I truly did have feelings for Maria. I believe there is no other reason for me having this attachment almost a year after it ended.

I've started to wonder if perhaps I trust to easily; trusting too much in the people around me.
People I don't know.
But, when I speak with them- my mind tells me that they cannot possibly be bad people. I want to believe it, even though I know that not all people are inherently good, and that there are people out there who are looking to take advantage of unquestioned trust.
Still, when I speak with them, I feel the need to gain their trust and put my trust into them.

I have tried to cut myself off from Michael.
This was not an easy task at first. I wanted him to like me as Maria liked me, and  I wanted him to be Maria.
But of course, no such thing happened.
He almost seemed proud of his deception, even though he apologized for the issues that developed.
The thing with Michael was that he was very sweet at times, and that sweetness pulled me in. But it was only on the surface, and underneath was just too much stuff I couldn't deal with.
I thought at first I could help him- that he could get better and perhaps we could be close. After all, I was close to many of his personas, and they  had to be somewhat reflections of himself.
However, what I saw in them I could not find in Michael regardless of how hard I looked.
Sometimes I think I made myself see it just to give him more time, so that perhaps I would eventually see it and it would prove that he was a good guy, and my attraction wasn't insanity.
But the days ticked by, and all I saw was a broken man.
Perhaps it was a combination of low self-esteem, boredom, and alcohol abuse. Perhaps he really did just want to explore who he was. Regardless, I think he was beyond my help, no matter how hard I wanted to fix him. Once he admitted he had decided he had absolutely no gender issues as he had claimed in the recent past, I felt that it was just too much.

I am not certain why gender issues would have been so important to me. Perhaps it was that if he did indeed have issues with his gender identity, or sexual orientation- it would give reason for his puppeteering as 9 girls.
Even that though, is a stretch. Perhaps if he had acted as one girl it would have been different. 9 just seems to signal lack of self control, and way beyond exploring of self.

So what am I doing now?
I'm remembering good times with Kara, the innocent 19 year old girl who loved Harry Potter and Naruto, and listed to alternative rock. The girl who laughed at my stupid jokes and told me how much she liked me.

I am remembering Sharon, who was blunt and distant. Who only wanted to be understood, and who was obsessed with mystery and crime. Who smoked too much, and had a crush on her partner at school. Who had a soft personality under a hard shell.

I am remembering Katherine, who was bubbly and fun. Who made the situation light, and raised my spirit. Who called me kid, and texted me good night. Who was overly sexual and had a blind boyfriend. The one who gave me good advice and listened to my problems.

I am remembering Maria, who contemplated the whole world. Who debated with me, asked questions and always had something brewing in her head. Who wanted to understand people, and wanted to be understood to some degree. Who liked Bon Jovi and spent time hanging out in coffee shops. Not too emotional, but filled with motivation to grow as a person.

I am remembering May. An Atheist with a chip on her shoulder. Lover of music and expression. Who felt disconnected and broken, but found herself watching the sun rise every morning. Who had body issues and wanted to feel pretty. An angry girl who was just wanting to move through life.

I am remembering Nancy. Who texted me good morning and asked me to walk over to chat with her. Who wrote me poems and talked about art. Who was emotional, but controlled. Who spoke of spring flowers and new days, and accepting ourselves and moving forward. Who one day wanted to be a famous artist, and move people though the powers of color, and shade, and expression.

The emptiness I feel is almost unbearable. Perhaps I should have realized the signs. I know I should have. But they made me happy, and I felt so comfortable and understood. I am just not sure how to move forward.

How do you go on when you lose everyone you were close to all at once? To figure out they were only characters in one man's mind, and that the entire time you were all alone and everything you knew was a lie?
How do you move forward?

I just still miss them. I wish it would change. I hate the feeling.