I wonder if he knows how often I wish I were dead.
I wonder if he knows that I know what he does, or if he even know that he is doing it.
When he withholds love. When he jdges. When he procrastinates. When he lies. When he breaks my heart.
We all run around waiting for him to give love, or take love.
And yet I apologize, and try, and break.
Most days, lately all the days, I can't feel. But to heyday I feel hurt. And the only thing thing that keeps me on this earth is the boy.
I wish someone, anyone, would give me a break.
A hug. Something nice. Not pity.
Maybe love.
I've been fighting for so long, and I've failed at everything.
I cut myself tonight. Kitchen knife. Deep. Didn't even bleed.
That frightens me.
If you bleed to see if you are ok, and don't bleed, what does that mean?
I don't understand why people feel better by hurting others.
My boyfriend posted on Facebook a story about how he threw a street preachers pamphlet in the gutter, and how the sadness that caused the man gave him enough joy to navigate the day.
A friend told me she didn't understand how her daughter has been so joyful when she had a birthday party and had isolated and ignored one of the girls invited. Yet she had done the same thing to me just a week prior to gain favor with another aquaintance.
This leaves me to wonder if I myself do this sort of thing to others. I hope not.
There is something so broken, so twisted, so hurt deep down inside of me...
That I will never really love.
I will never really accept.
I will never be ok.
Even at 41, I purge.
I cut.
I am fat.
I am unloved by anyone except my children. Even that love will fade.
There is a man laying on bed next to me that wants to love me. He says he loves me. He says it. He doesn't practice it.
Or maybe he does. I don't know because I don't understand love.
There is a boy I loved. I think of him always. I'm not sure that is normal.
Maybe not always. I'll be happy, and then his name will appear in my head. I become sad.
Maybe that is grief. Moving on. Being happy or sad. And missing them. And still moving forward.
I'd do anything to live my life with him.
Anything except live my life with him.
I don't understand myself.
I've been deeply sad lately.
The winter has been harsh.
Not just cold. It has felt long. I have felt alone, even though I'm not.
Often I look around, or I look at myself, and all I see is the life and the me that everyone else wants for me.
I really have nobody to blame but myself for that.
I need to work on that.
I just want to have a baby and stay home. I don't know how long I can hold on to anything other than that.
