“‘What a waste of time,’ the thought crossed my mind, but I never missed a beat.. I once had a grip on everything, it feels better to let go.. I’m not over, I’m not over you just yet. Can not hide it, you’re not that easy to forget..”
-Carolina Liar
You’re not. Easy to forget that is. I mean christ, I planned my entire happy fucking future with you in every single moment.
I’m still going to write, and I’ll still move to Arizona. I’ll still go to college, and I’ll still travel to every single place I can think of in the world. Now though, with you gone, it feels like running away instead of towards.
I gave you everything. I know I’m not the best person, but who is? My only problem was my anger, and that was usually justified. I am more than ok with you hanging out with your friends and partying sometimes, even often. But every single night? And did you have to stay out until 8 am every time? I’ve definitely enjoyed plenty of parties, but once you started going every night I couldn’t stand it, why do you think I started staying home?
I wanted a real life, not some pass the time or waste it partying crap. I wanted a picnic, or a movie night, or just a nothing day where we went to work and hung out later than night, meeting each other at home, tired as hell, falling asleep next to each other.
But no, there’s no more of that. I don’t even have a job because my insecurities from when I was a kid have come back full blown, plus some.
I haven’t had these problems in 6 years, since before I ever met you, and now I have anxiety attacks when I’m forced to go into a grocery store. I wear layers of baggy clothes with a hat pulled down low over my eyes so I don’t actually have to look at anybody.
I’m a fucking freak. I pick at my face and legs and arms and there is nothing there! I used to have good skin, and now it’s full of red marks and scabs because I just can’t help myself. I don’t have a job because getting my GED would require me actually leaving my house. I’ve applied to over a thousand places online and quite a few in person, but nobody wants a highschool drop out.
Through all of this, you still cal me, still text me. What do you want? You cheated. Twice!
I broke up with you the first time 3 or more years ago and went certifiably insane just to deal with it. Two years later you’re still begging me to take you back, saying you love me and only me. But here we are, again.
Why is it always 8 months? Is there a little clock that goes off in you’re head? Riiiing riiing, oh it’s time to screw Xylinas life up all over again. Who cares how bad she used to have it back home, or how long and hard she had to work on herself to get a semblance of normalcy back. Let’s break it all into a thousand tiny little pieces, and laugh at her while she kills herself trying not to die.
What do you want from me? I already gave you everything. I’m a shell now, I’m empty. I’m a nuerotic mess of a person who thinks she’s having a heart attack at least once every other day. Who forgets that she’s still in her house because her terrible memories are taking over her mind. Who’s fought all her life to survive through more than enough bullshit but still gets to deal with trying not to commit suicide, again. Again. God I forget how many times I tried back then.
Stop asking for more! You still love me, same as last time. It was just a mistake, right? Poor you, losing the love of your life, who you can’t seem to stay loyal to. Poor you, who gets cussed out by the person who you screwed up beyond repair (again!).
You have no idea how hard it was to get to a safe place without you. Let alone get to a place where I could make myself trust you again and take you back. Trusting is harder than fucking regaining my sanity. But I did it anyway, because I stupidly loved you.
Gave you an already fragile, already broken heart. That wasn’t good enough though.
And fuck you for this because I was amazing in bed. So what was missing that made you go out and fuck my best friend?
I hate this fucking world. My childhood was fucking awful, preteen years, god don’t bring it up because I’d probably stab somebody. Now early adult years? I’ve fixed things a couple few times and it was hard as hell. Liek rebuilding a human being, which is what I did.
So you broke me again, and now, there really is absolutely nothing left.
I’m not even a shell, I don’t feel empty like I used to. I feel useless. Worthless, not depressed or self-loathing (well only sometimes), just, nothing. I am nothing anymore.
I’ve got no strength to rebuild myself. I’ve got no fear of love because it’s all a hall mark sham. I’ve got no taste for men because they’ve proven themselves to be similar (not that i like women).
I’ve got my family. My dysfunctional, secluded, fucked up but loving, family.
So I get a few hours of phone convo every couple of weeks. Or I get a couple texts. Or if it’s a good week then I actually have a real conversation with my mother. Yay.
Fuck my life. Can’t you just leave me alone? Stop asking if I still love you, because you know I do, and I always will. Stop making me want to fucking die every single day.
Or just kill me. That’d be more humane.
6 comments
I was fucking there for you! I loved you more than anything. I was a good fiance, great eve. I cooked, cleaned, let you party, didn’t judge when you went out with friends (until the last leg of our relationship when it was every night and until 8am at the earliest). I cared for you and loved you simultaneously. It’s not like I was some crazy gf who though cooking and cleaning would fiz our problems. We talked, real talks. And I told you everything, more than I’ve told anybody. I fixed my problems just to be with you.
Hm. Maybe that was the problem, was I not fucked up enough for you anymore? Should I have stayed anorexic? Do you prefer girls who weigh 103 lbs? Or maybe it’s the ‘no-no’ syndrom. You weren’t supposed to have her so you had to have her. Why my friend? No, I’m glad it was her. Two birds with one stone and all. At least I didn’t waste another 3 years drying her tears and making her feel better about herself every night like I used to. I’m glad you both showed me who you really are. Without the ‘glad’ part I guess.
I’m not depressed, I’m not sad, I’m not lonely, I’m not anything. I just want to die because I’ve got nothing left to look forward to. I had plans. Still have them, still gunna do them, they just won’t mean anything to me.
That’s ok. I’ll live, I guess. If you can call it that.
Well, everyone else will think I’m living anyway.
Shit, I should become an actress, I’m pretty good at it.
You two should talk to each other, mistakes are there to be learnt from, look at both of your mistakes to each other and fix them, more mistakes may come, but learn from each, and as time passes you two may be happy again. Importantly. I notice both of you speak more of yourselves then each other. Place each other in each others shoes, if you keep trying things will get better give up now, then whats the point of even writting? Never give up. Never surrender, later in 5 years if this goes well you 2 can think about this time and laugh at it. Try again
“I took advantage of your love. After everything, you gave it readily and easily. I can’t control myself. I’m sorry. Run from me, if only to save yourself”
Amar, we talk all the time. We both know how each other feel about this situatoin. He knows how bad it’s gotten with me and how awful I feel and how depressed I am and how I can’t feel trust for any other person in the world.
And I know how angry he is at himself for doing it and how he wants only me and crap like that. We talk plenty.
He cheated on me dude. Fucking twice. It was hard enough for somebody like me to give him a chance in the first place (which he fucked up). It was even harder to give him a chance the second time, two years later.
So what am I supposed to do again? I still love him, obviously. Still talk to him, cuz who else could understand how I feel?
So do you think I should keep forgiving him? We’ve got a great thing until every eight months and then, bam. You think I should just keep forgiving him? Over and over? Who cares how I feel right? Wtf. Whatever. I want to be with him but I won’t. I’m too angry to forgive him again. I acn handle it alone. I’ll handle it very badly but I don’t think I’ll kill myself over it. Not right now anyway. Maybe I’ll die later. Who cares.
Oh and omaar, I will never be able to laugh at this. It hurts too bad, maybe the first time was less terrible (or not) but no. The second time isn’t a mistake, it’s a fucking choice. And he didn’t choose me.
Funny how he always loves me so much when he doesn’t have me. When we’re together it’s a whole different story.
Thank you unbecoming. I really am trying to save myself. It hurts though because I have to hurt him in the process. But sometimes I get so angry that he can make me feel like the one who should say sorry. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I can’t pretend like I’m fine.
Fuck trying. I am nothing anymore. Don’t tell me to put myself in his shoes. I know how much he hates himself for what he did to me again, this isn’t some stupid fisrt love bullshit. I’m not dumb enough to throw away a love for some kind of mistake. He cheated on me, ok I forgive him. He cheated on me again, ok I forgive him. But I will not take him back.
I will not keep putting myself through situations that make me want to kill myself. I’ve got enough reasons without him. Don’t tell me this will be funny in 5 years. This will always make me sad, the only thing I can do is what i did before, grow enough to accept the sadness, pull the pain deep down inside of me nad let it fucking fester.
W/e. Thanks for the advice.