July 9th ’24 15:34
All week it’s been over 106°, sweat drips down my boobs, my back, my crack. I haven’t been good lately. To others, but when I notice that I haven’t been I try to make up for it. I still hate women. I’m insecure. I’m still not committed. I’m insecure. What drives that is the memories of his actions and feelings of worthlessness, it helps to distract for the brief moments it’s happening but then it washes away and the waves come again, most of the time even more ferocious, other times it’s evened out by guilt. How do I know what I want? Do I want to live my life w/Andrew or do I want to try to move past my life w/him and not be with him? Because it’s a major struggle for us both to keep trying when I make it so difficult to be around and kicking him and jerking him around like he’s going to be there forever. When I think about one of us dying I regret not giving it all my love & care, I regret being a bitch. I don’t know how to let go of the pain, it feels so anchored, so secure like I can’t live w/o it, but I wish it didn’t have to change me into this completely selfish, unaware, bitchy, insecure, complacent thing, I wish it made me stronger or more creative or active or funny or considerate. It has continuously evolved to make me less than what I will ever be or could’ve been. It has led me to a violent path. I never envisioned this, not this. I try to see the person I want to be but it feels impossible. Like every blink is a zap back to reality of the war going on inside. There’s me, the person I’ve been since I was born and then there’s me, the one that can’t stop the world around me from hurting me or people from using me. I’m reaching for any hands that reach for me hoping/wanting for it to be the helping hand I want. I want someone to scoop out the gunk that’s inside of me, I need triage care because I’m bleeding out everywhere and it’s staining everything.
