Once again, I am posting about how thankful I am that I have G in my life. I turned off my alarms yesterday in my sleep, and he came upstairs to wake me up. Running late to work last night, he made me coffee, warming up the cold brew just enough so I would be able to chug it. He told me to be careful and sent me on my way with a kiss goodbye and an “I love you.” He is an extraordinary man and puts up with me on my good days and bad. He is patient and kind, loving and passionate about so many things, and most importantly, he cares for me. It’s little things like last night that make me realize, G is the complete opposite of anyone I’ve been in a relationship with before and honestly, I am so very grateful to have him. Okay I’m done being gross.
– a six word story
The number of times I thought about taking everything I said back that night
The number of times I wanted to forgive you because it was too hard to be without you
The number of times I told myself I loved you the same day you fucking ruined me
The number of days I spent in my bed after I found out about her
One hundred, one thousand, one million,
Every day for the rest of my life
The number of days I would’ve loved you if you had fucking let me
– excerpt from a book I’ll never write
My man, G.
For the past year he’s loved me, supported me, cuddled me when I needed it most, left me alone when I was sobbing and saying that “i just couldn’t.”, cooked with me, shopped with me, matched me at our friend’s wedding, introduced me to shows/games/books I wouldn’t have sought out on my own, floated with me, went to game night despite the fact he didn’t want to, put up with me on multiple occasions of embarrassing situations that we DON’T talk about, made sure I’m eating and taking care of myself, and grown with me as we both learned to open up and talk about things rather than pushing it down and letting it consume us. Not to mention he puts up with me working night shift, and I only get to see/sleep next to him for 30 minutes before he has to get ready and leave for work.
I promise it won’t always be like this and I promise to stop running away every time I cry. And I promise to stop crying so much because honestly these breakdowns I’ve been having without any provocation are getting really old and I just wanna be happy instead of secretly crying into my pillow while you’re sleeping next to me.
Also America sucks, woo!
I’m having a really rough time lately and honestly, I don’t even know why.
It could be work, life, stress, health, anything really, because depression doesn’t care whether you’re in a loving relationship and have a good job and some really cool friends. You will still cry yourself to sleep after running away from your boyfriend despite the fact he tried to cradle/cuddle you and told you he wasn’t going anywhere and that everything will be okay.
Depression doesn’t care that you have no reason to feel sad or upset or paranoid that your boyfriend is going to break up with you so he can date his ex girlfriend, because you know what? He probably should, she was a normal, stable, dancer with her college degree and you’re still trying to figure out your life and crying for no fucking reason.
Depression doesn’t care that you want to continue your happy life, because once that switch has been triggered, all you think about is how everyone would be much better off without you. Even people across the globe that you’ve never even met would be better off if you didn’t exist.
I’m just having a really rough time lately, and talking about it is last thing I’m able to do. I know I’m getting bad again, but it seems like all that works is to just ride it out and hope for the best.
I’m sorry to post something so downbeat, but that’s how mental illnesses work. It’s how recovery works. You’re never just “cured” and more often than not, you will have these days of relapse.
he was never mine to begin with, that’s the part that I managed to miss.
Because I am entirely, entirely his.
I picked myself up from the dark to be able to tuck my heart into his left side chest pocket.
But he was never mine to begin with and I guess I was so caught up in him and the love I wanted to give that I never noticed how empty my pockets have been since the beginning.
– excerpt from a book I’ll never write
Most of all though, it was you who I wanted to tell that I was hurting. You were the one I wanted to explain to that if I had my heart in my hands instead of my chest, I’d be able to watch it beat in pain to the beat of, “I’m hurting I’m hurting I’m hurting and you’re just watching”.
But no one wants to hear about the pain they’ve inflicted.
One moment you’re telling me you love me and the next you can’t even look me in the eyes anymore and the next we haven’t talked in 3 weeks and oh god oh god how is this happening oh-
But it was still you I wanted to turn to, even though I knew that I wasn’t part of the team anymore. I wanted to beg my heart to let it go, God please, there’s no point in beating for you anymore. But my heart’s never listening and my head’s awful at communication, so if you’re looking for a heart, another one to add to your collection, you know my apartment is the one on the corner of our favorite intersection.