I write to distract myself when I can’t talk to him. I try to breathe while the minutes stretch on and on and on and on and on. He thinks that I am exaggerating when I tell him it was 40 minutes, at least half an hour, that he was gone. He looks at his phone and triumphantly declares it was only 20 minutes. I don’t think he has ever sat by the phone hoping for me.
I ask him to imagine what it feels like to be me, in love with someone who does not enjoy talking to me on the phone, or writing me letters, or finding sweet little things to do for me—what I consider signs of love and affection. I put it to him in terms he could understand. Imagine if I didn’t like to cuddle or hug or kiss him—what he considers signs of love and affection—but I insisted I still very much loved and cared for you. He tells me he knows what it is like, that his last relationship was with a girl like that. “I made a mistake staying with her for so long”.
When he felt a lack of affection from his girlfriend, he cheated on her with a girl who made him feel special. There is no one who makes me feel special. No one loves me but him. I have no one to talk to me on the phone or write me letters or find sweet little things to do for me. No one to escape to for a week before I go back to him. I refuse to believe that I’ve made a mistake, though.
I feel half empty when I am with him. I need to be cherished, desired, and cared for. I feel loved, but there is a hole in that love, like someone took a bite out of it and then let me finish it. I feel half empty, half loved when I am with him. But I feel completely empty when I am alone.
I want to spend the rest of my life in a hospital bed staring at the ceiling and imagining a happy life. That’s the closest to happy I can get. I want to check out. I can’t want to kill myself because people love me. They would rather have me a miserable shell of a person and alive than dead. Alive means there’s hope of some sort of recovery. Dead is a harsh ending. So I want the next best thing. I am finding everything too hard.
I fantasize about throwing my laptop across the room. From happy to crushed in seconds. Words. Syllables.
Help I’m such a fat piece of shit I hate this oh my god tho I literally am nauseated by my body
i want to reblog this and tell you no you’re wrong but i also want to reblog this and say i feel u
Yeah, what Mel said.
Jk, I really need to cut down on my drinking. But I am happy with myself tonight =D
I’m disappointed in Dalton’s friend for not stopping Dalton from being self absorbed and breaking my heart, because over a year later it is STILL an issue and maybe none of it would have happened if he had just said “no, that’s a dick move, go home”. But mostly I’m just looking for someone new to be angry at so I can stop feeling so hurt.
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