(no subject)
You know what?
Fuck this.
Fuck feeling sorry for myself. Fuck crying. Fuck lonely. Fuck it. I'm sick of it.
I'm not staying up until 5 A.M. sobbing anymore. I'm not waiting up for him. I refuse to be mad. I refuse to react. I'm in control of my emotions, goddammit, I'm running the fucking show here.
He can hang out with who he pleases. He can fuck who he pleases. He can NOT fuck who he pleases. The point is, it's none of my business anymore. And yes, I'm allowed to be hurt, I'm allowed to be upset, and I'm allowed to be confused, but I'll be damned if I'm going to live like this for another month. I'm not going to mope around in this mess I've created for myself-- and it IS a mess, alright. I haven't done laundry in four weeks. Our trashcans are overflowing.
And if he's fine living like this, then he can. But I'm done.
I love him. I love him to the end of the earth and back. But I can't keep feeling like this and expect to get better.
I don't want to die anymore. I don't want to feel like I need to hurt myself to keep from killing myself.
I want to live and I want to be happy.
Maybe this is a fit of mania. Maybe I won't feel this strong when I wake up.
Or maybe this is a good step. A step on my own, for the first time in my life.
Fuck this.
Fuck feeling sorry for myself. Fuck crying. Fuck lonely. Fuck it. I'm sick of it.
I'm not staying up until 5 A.M. sobbing anymore. I'm not waiting up for him. I refuse to be mad. I refuse to react. I'm in control of my emotions, goddammit, I'm running the fucking show here.
He can hang out with who he pleases. He can fuck who he pleases. He can NOT fuck who he pleases. The point is, it's none of my business anymore. And yes, I'm allowed to be hurt, I'm allowed to be upset, and I'm allowed to be confused, but I'll be damned if I'm going to live like this for another month. I'm not going to mope around in this mess I've created for myself-- and it IS a mess, alright. I haven't done laundry in four weeks. Our trashcans are overflowing.
And if he's fine living like this, then he can. But I'm done.
I love him. I love him to the end of the earth and back. But I can't keep feeling like this and expect to get better.
I don't want to die anymore. I don't want to feel like I need to hurt myself to keep from killing myself.
I want to live and I want to be happy.
Maybe this is a fit of mania. Maybe I won't feel this strong when I wake up.
Or maybe this is a good step. A step on my own, for the first time in my life.