I did something stupid…

I did something really stupid last night. Something  I swore to myself I’d never do…

I took a razor to my leg in an effort to find some sort of peace and make my chest ache less…

I hurt so much that I don’t know what to do…

and I don’t have a chance in hell with him again… so I suppose I should be happy like every one’s saying…

I apologise if I’m not coherent… I just drank a bottle of meade and am listening to Gary Jule’s version of Mad World, which for some insane reason, makes me feel a bit better. I think it’s the musical arrangement…

The razor deal… I was just being stupid… as scared as I was, I thought maybe, possibly, this would make me hurt less… but it made me hurt more and want to hurt myself more so I reached out for help.

Most likely to the wrong person, but after he got it through his head I wasn’t doing this simply for attention, he told me the truth. He resented the fact he drove me everywhere. That I didn’t have my license, and that makes me feel so insignificant and stupid and… and… I don’t even know what else… but I want to start sobbing again. I want to stop hurting, but I don’t know how, and I’m so bewildered by the fact I had such faith in him… like I have in everyone I’ve ever loved…

And sadly, like everyone I’ve ever loved, they’ve let me down, betrayed me, and used me like a whore.

I feel so dirty…

How can I stop feeling so used when he SAID he loved me when we had sex… but doesn’t love ME anymore… so it isn’t love making anymore, is it? *chokes*

That seems like a giant contradiction to me….

This diary is almost like my catharsis, for which I was named, my mental purging…

….

I think I’m so wasted that I can’t see the screene…. but I don’t know wether or not that’s the liquor or the tears…

Either way, it’s a really shitty reason to waste someone’s hopes and dreams and…

My god, I love him so much!

Just the thought of him makes me feel 10 feet high… and now, it makes me feel so weak and worthless and horrible… knowing he doesn’t love me…

That I’m not a creature that can be loved…

I stopped writting him except the ‘omg I’m so sorry about the letters, so sorry’… Why do I feel so sorry when I have the right to feel vindicated in my pain?

I sit here and struggle not to cry.

I struggle not to cry at work when people smile and give me that pity stare.

God, I wish I could gouge their eyes out… some of them really mean it, the others look at me and say, behind my back no less, that I deserved it…

Fuck, my mother made me feel like shit because I confided in the fact I cut my leg with a razor…. she said, and I quote ‘Show your brother what you did for attention’.

*very sad* It wasn’t for attention, it was for a desperate bid to make me not hurt so much.,..

I’m barely functioning as it is… and like Ed said, the worst thing I can do is talk to him… but…

He’s my friend *starts crying* And I want to talk to my friend… I told him all my secrets, all my wants and dreams and desires… and I feel so… so… I don’t have words…

And I think that’s the problem… I don’t have words for how horrid I feel… and I want to feel better.

My mind knows he was no good for me. My mind knows I’ll feel better in time… but my heart….

she works on her own schedule… and right now, my chest aches so hard, is so painful that I can barely breathe…

and I know that I’m not loved… that he thinks I’ll hurt myself for attention instead of honest want of the pain to go away.

I psyched myself out of it today… but now, with the liquor… I feel so horrible… so dizzy and lost and… I want to sit on the driveway like I did with Steve… maybe some clairty will come when I’m with such a good friend as the driveway… but I don’t have that person beside me, with their arm slung over my shoulders going, ‘No matter what, I love you.’

I don’t have that… at least physically… the ones who diminish the pain the most aren’t within arms reach.

They’re not where they’ll cuddle me, and love me and tell me I’m OK. That I’m pretty and beautiful and worth so much more than what Joe thought of me… and eventhough it hurts so much to hear it… and eventhough I don’t believe it… and no man’s worthin hurting yourself over…

I don’t have them here to stop me… I don’t have them to reach out and ask for help, and lord knows I need help.

I’m so hurt… so dysfunctional… and hurt and angry and I’m turning bitter… I don’t want to be bitter about the fact I want the man I loved the most, and the deepest and the strongest of my young life… that he’s happier without me.

He gets his wish… I’m not dating him anymore… I might feel like a 10 ton weight around his neck, and he possibly might just pity me with cutting myself and drinking myself into a stupor because of him… but he caused it all… he caused it, and I hurt so much that he didn’t talk to me… I loved him.. he made my day so much brighter and lighter when I saw him… I was so high….

All it would have taken was simple comunication and I wouldn’t feel this hurt or betrayed… or pukey… or so wasted… so angry…

I started refering to one of the guys I work with as ‘My Sunshine’ because he’s that. He makes me laugh, he makes me happy and helps me forget because he hurts along with me. And I love him so much for that… that he understands and he doesn’t make me feel like absolute trash for still loving the asshole who sent me a letter telling me to break it off.

In fact, he rather hates him… and tells me I should too, but I ask him, how can I hate a man who gave me the courage to look in the mirror and feel… and see myself as something more than a walking matt… as something more than a whore or a place holder or,… just me.

He made me feel so much better, and I feel so sick and disgusting and… and… *crying* I just don’t know…

I don’t know how I’ll ever get over this… and I wonder, in the dead of the night when I wish I had his arms around me telling me it’s ok… if he realized how much… how deeply and how much of myself I put into this relationship.

My mom told me it’s hard, and my dad cheated on her twice. TWICE, and yet they’re still together because, oh my god! They TALKED.

I just… I just feel liek the rug was yanked from beneath me with no warning… and I feel so bitter and hurt and angry and hopeless and loveless and alone…

I’m in such a dark place, but I wonder if he cars… if he honestly cares enough to read this… but I know he won’t. I know it’s fuitle.

Yeah, that’s a good word: Futile.

So is: justified anger

and: giving up

And that’s why I feel like doing… I feel like giving up and hating him because it’ll make it so much easier on him… if I hate him.

I don’t want it easy on him.

I want him to hurt goddamnit! I want him to hurt like I hurt.

I want him crying in the night asking why my love for him wasn’t worth that much and why I wasn’t treated with gods honest human decency… why he hates me so much to hurt me this badly for a piece of fucking laminated plastic.

I’m just so lost… and

alone, but I know I’m not. *hugs* I have all you who read and don’t comment, I have all the girls and guys at work praying that I’ll come through, and I have a coward who says I’m strong, but doesn’t realize it was he, and his believe in me, that made me strong…

I just want to breathe without pain, and that’ll be a long time coming.

One of the girls at work says God did this for a reason… and that reason you might never know nor understand… you might never find it…

I just know… that I’m so drunk right now… and my chest is so tight and painful, that I can’t see the computer screen. I’m seeing double.

Go ahead and pity me.

Go ahead and call me a fool…

I know he used me; I know he doesn’t love me… but damnit all to hell, I want him back in my arms.