Becoming too big to manage

My thoughts and feelings are completely out of control.

My sleep schedule, along with my stomach, is in tatters.

If I'm not thinking about her, I'm not thinking.

On the one hand, she thanks me for pulling her near when she's pushing me away. I'm her shoulder to cry on when she needs to vent about work, or her mom, or her family. I'm her "rock," as she puts it.

On the other, I barely talked to her yesterday. Our only correspondence was through one instant message conversation, which lasted all of five minutes. When I asked her to call me last night, she said she didn't know if she could because she was going out with the girls. True to form, I got no call on the way out to meet the girls, and when I woke up with nightmares at 4am, and foolishly checked my phone, found that I'd gotten no call on her way home from being with the girls.

And the coup de gras: Friday night, the night we'd been planning to have together for Valentine's Day dinner? Canceled, due to a meeting at work. At 7pm. On a Friday night.

Ahem. Excuse me?

I don't know what's more insulting. The idea that I should just be okay with that, or the idea that I shouldn't be suspicious. I mean, would ANYONE not be suspicious?

All in all, it hurts me. It hurts me because I don't know what to believe anymore. I think there's someone else, someone who is taking up her time, whispering sweet nothings (those are MY sweet nothings, you douchenozzle!), and stealing my girl away from me.

And yet, she can tell me she loves me without issue... But the words aren't the thing, right? The feeling is the thing, right? And you can't fake it, right? And if she had any feeling at all for me, she wouldn't lie to me... Right?

I'm just feeling very alone, very betrayed, and very hurt. And to me, to call her on it and come away with nothing - to have her prove her meeting, her evening with the girls, et al - would be a tragic ending right out of Shakespeare.

Say nothing, and live a lie.

Say something, and end with nothing.

Say nothing, and end with nothing anyway.

Of the three, I'd choose the last. I know I'm a fool for doing so. Someone straighten me out. Please, please straighten me out.

Last train to Crazytown

I love her.

I really, really love her.

And yet, I can't get around the fights about inconsequential things that turn into so much more than they should.

We fight differently. I try to look at things very logically, and actually end up politicizing my responses (the "I never said that," "Never said it like that," variety), which pisses her off. She hits below the belt with some of her comments and, me being the delicate flower that I am, I wilt in the face of unfair criticism.

At first, these fights would crop up and I thought we just had to learn how to fight with one another. Now, I'm starting to think there's more to it than that.

What if I've been wrong this whole time? What if this wonderful woman who I think is great for me is not what I thought she was?

Doubting yourself is the toughest part of a situation like this. We've pressed on through fights before, and it's been okay, and I just wonder if I'm fooling myself. But why?

Is it her - and more accurately, us - that keeps me here? Or is it me, and my fear of being alone for the rest of my life?

To borrow from Rob Gordon, "Only people of a certain disposition are afraid of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 28. I am of that disposition."

The problem lies within. I feel like if we let go of what we have - something so strong, so passionate, so interesting and fun and great in bed - that we'll both regret it when we look back. And I've spent a ton of my life looking back in regret. I don't wish to add to that list.

SO, blog readers, all three of you: tell me what to do. Is this fixable? Is there a fix for this bridge?

To borrow from the Grammy-winning band Lazyface, "Is anything left?"

Answers should be in essay form.