The way it is...
I should really wait till later to even start this shit since we bout to leave, but fuck it. It'll take however long it takes to write it all the way out.
I really hate this journal now. It used to be my safe place that you could only come in if you were invited. Now it's a place where I've given away way too much of me. And these are pieces that I can never get back. Do you know how many people have had access to me in ways I didn't really want? Waaaay too fucking many to count, honestly. I invited so many people here because this shit was therapeutic to me. It gave me a place to feel, and vent, and process, and just be...me. and over the course of being me, and wanting to be known, and loved, and understood, I let people.into the darkest and brightest parts of me, and look where they are now. most of them gone, never to be tf around again. And I don't like being reminded of that. More so than I like being reminded that people have seen such vulnerability and decided..what??! That it was too much, or not worth it, or some fucking tool to use to get to me do and be what they wanted? Nahh...I hate it here. But you're mine, so I'm not getting rid of you that easily. Haha
Anyways...this journal is a reminder of all the fucked up shit that I've been thru. Even down to that raggedy ass affair. Let's talk about that, shall we? In this month of May, I'm hella annoyed. Because at one point, I was too weak to push forward, so I took waaay too many steps back and slinked(sunk) down back into my past, where I was comfortable in the pain. Like, how fucking weak do you have to be to want to not move forward anymore? How tf do you get comfortable hurting? I really didn't understand the saying, "hurt people, hurt people" until I became the hurt person, hurting people. And it's like, I hurt so many people, not even because I was hurting, per se, but mostly because at some point, I was simply trying to survive the hurt I had been dealt. 2019 was a really hard year for me. Being slapped with the realization that I never had any friends, I wasn't really shit to anyone, I couldn't get the baby I had damn near destroyed myself and my family over, my actual blood family won't hitting on shit...man, it was just...a fucking lot. So instead of moving forward and finding new areas of life to hurt myself with, I went back to a known pain. A known brokenness. Which in turn broke me even more. Because I ruined a good thing, my marriage, my peace, my sanity, all because I thought I had a friend left. But I didn't, not in the sense that I had held friendship so dear. I mean, I'm the type of friend to let you cry on my shoulder, and big you up when the world is telling you you ain't worth shit, and take on your unwanted ass child because you can't do it anymore, and talk you and your boyfriend thru a suicide attempt, and help you start a fucking business from scratch, and hold space for you to be broken, and alone, and fucked up, and human, but when the chips were stacked against me, instead of sending me back home, where I needed to be, you took advantage and saw ways to get what you needed(a wet dick) and you exploited it. Here's where I fucked up. I let you. I was willing to be your wet hole cuz that's what my training Told.me I was worth. I was nothing more than a fucking tool for niggas pleasure, cuz that how you get the babies, right? My being the most pleasing thing to a man.
First the fuck of all, that's not ever how I wanted my child to be concieved, but my stupid lil fucked up head said that's how to get it. Funny enough, I wasn't even searching for that replacement baby during 2019. I just wanted someone to love me enough to actually wanna have babies with me. And I thought you did. But turns out, you didn't. You didn't wanna be responsible for me and a child. You just wanted me to be a fun girl. A motherfucking comfort girl. You were already playing houses I was supposed to be fun and fucking all the time. Fuck the real life problems I had going on, cuz that's not what I was there for. I mean, I took 8 tramadols, 4 Klonopin, and at least 12 ibuprofen in your bed and you had no fucking idea. I doubt you even cared enough to fucking notice. I have never actually said how I attempted to die in your bed. That shit really fucking sucks because I never even wrote my kids my goodbye letter. They wouldn't have even understood the bullshit I was feeling when I took those pills.
But while I'm being honest, I'm not going to lie and say the affair was all bad. I had a purpose again. Someone actually wanted me for a fucking second and it felt amazing. I was on cloud 9 being your lil fuck buddy. And that's the shit that pisses me off. I actually felt loved for being rutted on. How fucking lame. How fucking annoying is it that being fed dick and weed actually convinced me that someone in this fucked up ass world cared about me. That manic feeling is so damn stupid. Dopamine on fucking 1000 as long as someone can tell me how good I make them feel. The more I make you feel good, the more dopamine I get. And I needed that shit. my reserve was so fucking low. So when that retarded ass Vedo song "Pull out" became your anthem for me, I rode that shit hard. It was apparent that you never wanted me for anything other than sex and good times, and you proved that shit by asking me to get an abortion. You loved me, but not enough to do the right thing and take care of the child you kno you created. And why was that? Was I fucking someone else? Was there a possibility that the kid wasn't yours? What made me not enough to have your baby either, still? That shit hurt worse than that bullshit with Kendra, and Pat, and then Angelo,all rolled into one, because at the least, I thought our friendship was strong enough that you knew how bad I wanted a baby and you would do that for me. Cuz that's what friends do, right? Hahahahaha!! Amd that's when I realized I had been thinking about the word friend wrong. That's when I realized I had categorized a lot of you motherfuckers wrong. So I didn't give a fuck about you anymore. I just needed the dopamine that you willingly fed me. And I used that lie to extract as much dopamine as I could get. And it felt good to use you as much as you had used me. That was my way of...I dunno, I guess evening the score. I mean, we had been friends for fucking ever at that point. Had drug each other from relationship to relationship, all the while, you claiming you loved me sooo much, but when it came down to it, where was the love? Where the fuck did it go? And there is a part of me that doesn't really regret lying to you about aborting twins because like I said, the dopamine was worth it. It kept me the fuck alive after my suicide attempt failed to relieve me of the pain of my life. But I hate how toxic I had become. I hate that I resorted to something so callus and cruel to hurt someone else. And for that, I'm sorry. If you never forgive me, Ill understand. Believe me, I will.
I mean, I had just put my body thru hell hormonally trying to do what I knew my wife's body couldn't, and then she tried to die on me for a baby she didn't even want. And she still didn't trust me. Didn't love me. Was mad at me. I'm not even sure anymore. I mean, now I know she was depressed and I wasn't there, but nobody was trying to help me navigate all of the fucking changes I had been thru either. Niggas was too busy being jealous of my seemingly perfect fucking life to be a real fucking friend when I needed it. And that's the shit that keeps me from searching for a friend again. I was surrounded my snakes and associates who I honestly loved as hard as actual lovers, and look how well that turned out for me.
So when I'm reminded of this affair, it's not all rainbows and fairy tales of the best part of my life. It's a fucking reminder of how low I had been, how very little I mattered to quite a few people. And of a time when I did my worse damage to others. Because at the end of the day, I believe the fake pregnancy is what keeps my wife from fully loving an forgiving me for the torrid affair. And I'm not sure if we'll ever be the same. But as I heal, and become more aware of just how fucked up we all were in 2019, I'm aware that if nobody else holds space for me to be human, she does, and that in turn, gives me space to actually be human. So I will give myself all the graces that I've given others, and give myself the tape and glue I need to hold myself together, and when I first started this journey, it was the cheap ass dollar store tape and glue. But now, it's Gorilla glue and Duct tape, and it may not be pretty, but it's functional. And I'm alive, and loved.
But this place here, it's not the same for me. It doesn't make me feel loved, or even whole. Its a reminder of how very holy I actually am, and being holy ain't what I need to become whole again. So maybe one day, I'll be able to bridge the pieces of my soul together again, but right now, the hole is too damn wide, and deep, and I'm afraid that I'll fall in, and never get back out. Specially since my hard earned peace has been broken, yet again by a fucking sex claim.
So I'm leaving this entry open but hidden, until I've used enough tape and glue, and have learned some actual concrete ways to take care of myself while still processing all the damage that I've done to myself over the years, and hoping that the people I've hurt can see me as human, and see that I'm trying to be a better human. Because hurt people, hurt people,and that pain doesn't just, go away. But you learn how to move thru it.
And look at this shit. It's time to get up, for real life, and I'm sleepy again. This is stupid.
I really hate this journal now. It used to be my safe place that you could only come in if you were invited. Now it's a place where I've given away way too much of me. And these are pieces that I can never get back. Do you know how many people have had access to me in ways I didn't really want? Waaaay too fucking many to count, honestly. I invited so many people here because this shit was therapeutic to me. It gave me a place to feel, and vent, and process, and just be...me. and over the course of being me, and wanting to be known, and loved, and understood, I let people.into the darkest and brightest parts of me, and look where they are now. most of them gone, never to be tf around again. And I don't like being reminded of that. More so than I like being reminded that people have seen such vulnerability and decided..what??! That it was too much, or not worth it, or some fucking tool to use to get to me do and be what they wanted? Nahh...I hate it here. But you're mine, so I'm not getting rid of you that easily. Haha
Anyways...this journal is a reminder of all the fucked up shit that I've been thru. Even down to that raggedy ass affair. Let's talk about that, shall we? In this month of May, I'm hella annoyed. Because at one point, I was too weak to push forward, so I took waaay too many steps back and slinked(sunk) down back into my past, where I was comfortable in the pain. Like, how fucking weak do you have to be to want to not move forward anymore? How tf do you get comfortable hurting? I really didn't understand the saying, "hurt people, hurt people" until I became the hurt person, hurting people. And it's like, I hurt so many people, not even because I was hurting, per se, but mostly because at some point, I was simply trying to survive the hurt I had been dealt. 2019 was a really hard year for me. Being slapped with the realization that I never had any friends, I wasn't really shit to anyone, I couldn't get the baby I had damn near destroyed myself and my family over, my actual blood family won't hitting on shit...man, it was just...a fucking lot. So instead of moving forward and finding new areas of life to hurt myself with, I went back to a known pain. A known brokenness. Which in turn broke me even more. Because I ruined a good thing, my marriage, my peace, my sanity, all because I thought I had a friend left. But I didn't, not in the sense that I had held friendship so dear. I mean, I'm the type of friend to let you cry on my shoulder, and big you up when the world is telling you you ain't worth shit, and take on your unwanted ass child because you can't do it anymore, and talk you and your boyfriend thru a suicide attempt, and help you start a fucking business from scratch, and hold space for you to be broken, and alone, and fucked up, and human, but when the chips were stacked against me, instead of sending me back home, where I needed to be, you took advantage and saw ways to get what you needed(a wet dick) and you exploited it. Here's where I fucked up. I let you. I was willing to be your wet hole cuz that's what my training Told.me I was worth. I was nothing more than a fucking tool for niggas pleasure, cuz that how you get the babies, right? My being the most pleasing thing to a man.
First the fuck of all, that's not ever how I wanted my child to be concieved, but my stupid lil fucked up head said that's how to get it. Funny enough, I wasn't even searching for that replacement baby during 2019. I just wanted someone to love me enough to actually wanna have babies with me. And I thought you did. But turns out, you didn't. You didn't wanna be responsible for me and a child. You just wanted me to be a fun girl. A motherfucking comfort girl. You were already playing houses I was supposed to be fun and fucking all the time. Fuck the real life problems I had going on, cuz that's not what I was there for. I mean, I took 8 tramadols, 4 Klonopin, and at least 12 ibuprofen in your bed and you had no fucking idea. I doubt you even cared enough to fucking notice. I have never actually said how I attempted to die in your bed. That shit really fucking sucks because I never even wrote my kids my goodbye letter. They wouldn't have even understood the bullshit I was feeling when I took those pills.
But while I'm being honest, I'm not going to lie and say the affair was all bad. I had a purpose again. Someone actually wanted me for a fucking second and it felt amazing. I was on cloud 9 being your lil fuck buddy. And that's the shit that pisses me off. I actually felt loved for being rutted on. How fucking lame. How fucking annoying is it that being fed dick and weed actually convinced me that someone in this fucked up ass world cared about me. That manic feeling is so damn stupid. Dopamine on fucking 1000 as long as someone can tell me how good I make them feel. The more I make you feel good, the more dopamine I get. And I needed that shit. my reserve was so fucking low. So when that retarded ass Vedo song "Pull out" became your anthem for me, I rode that shit hard. It was apparent that you never wanted me for anything other than sex and good times, and you proved that shit by asking me to get an abortion. You loved me, but not enough to do the right thing and take care of the child you kno you created. And why was that? Was I fucking someone else? Was there a possibility that the kid wasn't yours? What made me not enough to have your baby either, still? That shit hurt worse than that bullshit with Kendra, and Pat, and then Angelo,all rolled into one, because at the least, I thought our friendship was strong enough that you knew how bad I wanted a baby and you would do that for me. Cuz that's what friends do, right? Hahahahaha!! Amd that's when I realized I had been thinking about the word friend wrong. That's when I realized I had categorized a lot of you motherfuckers wrong. So I didn't give a fuck about you anymore. I just needed the dopamine that you willingly fed me. And I used that lie to extract as much dopamine as I could get. And it felt good to use you as much as you had used me. That was my way of...I dunno, I guess evening the score. I mean, we had been friends for fucking ever at that point. Had drug each other from relationship to relationship, all the while, you claiming you loved me sooo much, but when it came down to it, where was the love? Where the fuck did it go? And there is a part of me that doesn't really regret lying to you about aborting twins because like I said, the dopamine was worth it. It kept me the fuck alive after my suicide attempt failed to relieve me of the pain of my life. But I hate how toxic I had become. I hate that I resorted to something so callus and cruel to hurt someone else. And for that, I'm sorry. If you never forgive me, Ill understand. Believe me, I will.
I mean, I had just put my body thru hell hormonally trying to do what I knew my wife's body couldn't, and then she tried to die on me for a baby she didn't even want. And she still didn't trust me. Didn't love me. Was mad at me. I'm not even sure anymore. I mean, now I know she was depressed and I wasn't there, but nobody was trying to help me navigate all of the fucking changes I had been thru either. Niggas was too busy being jealous of my seemingly perfect fucking life to be a real fucking friend when I needed it. And that's the shit that keeps me from searching for a friend again. I was surrounded my snakes and associates who I honestly loved as hard as actual lovers, and look how well that turned out for me.
So when I'm reminded of this affair, it's not all rainbows and fairy tales of the best part of my life. It's a fucking reminder of how low I had been, how very little I mattered to quite a few people. And of a time when I did my worse damage to others. Because at the end of the day, I believe the fake pregnancy is what keeps my wife from fully loving an forgiving me for the torrid affair. And I'm not sure if we'll ever be the same. But as I heal, and become more aware of just how fucked up we all were in 2019, I'm aware that if nobody else holds space for me to be human, she does, and that in turn, gives me space to actually be human. So I will give myself all the graces that I've given others, and give myself the tape and glue I need to hold myself together, and when I first started this journey, it was the cheap ass dollar store tape and glue. But now, it's Gorilla glue and Duct tape, and it may not be pretty, but it's functional. And I'm alive, and loved.
But this place here, it's not the same for me. It doesn't make me feel loved, or even whole. Its a reminder of how very holy I actually am, and being holy ain't what I need to become whole again. So maybe one day, I'll be able to bridge the pieces of my soul together again, but right now, the hole is too damn wide, and deep, and I'm afraid that I'll fall in, and never get back out. Specially since my hard earned peace has been broken, yet again by a fucking sex claim.
So I'm leaving this entry open but hidden, until I've used enough tape and glue, and have learned some actual concrete ways to take care of myself while still processing all the damage that I've done to myself over the years, and hoping that the people I've hurt can see me as human, and see that I'm trying to be a better human. Because hurt people, hurt people,and that pain doesn't just, go away. But you learn how to move thru it.
And look at this shit. It's time to get up, for real life, and I'm sleepy again. This is stupid.