So I haven’t posted in a few days, kind of trying to stop being so negative but honestly I’m not exactly feeling positive just yet so that means just kind of keeping my feelings inside. And sleeping at every given opportunity… which leads to a lot of nightmares, fyi!
I have actually had a rather busy week which was good cause every distraction is welcome! But I was mentally exhausted by Friday night and cried about four times in the cinema… twice before the movie even started. I feel like keeping busy should be helping me to move on and switch off my brain but it’s still always working overtime in the background. It’s like on the outside I look fine, and I’m functioning and I’m smiling but inside I’m being eaten alive by the seven dwarves: Doubt, Self-loathing, Loneliness, Misery, Malaise, Rage and Despair. (BTW if anyone is interested, I saw Straight Outta Compton in the cinema – amazing! Go see it!)
The thing is, it’s really hard moving forward when I don’t know what I’m advancing to anymore. I wasn’t exactly happy before I met him. Even as a child I remember being sad, lonely, lost, nervous, self conscious and feeling like I was waiting for something to happen. This feeling of waiting just became more and more overwhelming the older I got and I tried to abate it with drugs and alcohol (which of course does not work). Then all of a sudden I fell for him and that was it – it had happened. I was now as happy and confident and downright euphoric as I had been lost and lonely for all those years. Don’t get me wrong I still had bad days, and weeks… and due to a multitude of things 2015 was a bad year but in general I was happy. I was happy with myself, with my life, with my relationship, my routine. I was a happy person, I wasn’t waiting for something anymore, I was living it, it was happening.
So now I can’t take comfort in the idea that “oh you were happy before him you’ll be happy again!” because I genuinely wasn’t. But even then I had the hope that whatever it was I was waiting on (I had no idea at the time that it would be him) would come. Now… it’s come and gone. What if I have peaked? What if that was it? What if it isn’t all OK in the end? What if we just tell ourselves that so we don’t all fucking top ourselves when we have our hearts crushed beyond repair? What if I’m nothing special and I don’t deserve shit (that none of us deserve shit), it’s all just pot luck and circumstance and this is the card I’ve been dealt and there’s nothing that I, or anyone else, or the universe can do about it?
I’m keeping busy, I’m focusing on other things, I’m doing the things I’m supposed to do but I’m not happy – just distracted. My eyes are still full of tears every single day even when I’m smiling, and my thoughts are still fucking full of him.
This blog was supposed to be the place where I just pour my heart out without worrying that I was inconveniencing people because, well, if you get sick of it you can just stop reading (you lucky ducks) whereas if I’m talking to an actual human being it’s a wee bit harder for them to just slowly walk away while I’m mid-rant. But with a few regular readers and knowing that a couple friends read my shit too, I’m now even worrying about leaving my feelings here! But I have to do something with them ’cause carrying them about all day is so fucking tiring. They’re heavy – writing this, in a strange way, is kind of like putting them down for a little while.
I don’t even have a point with this post; I’m not able to round it up to any general consensus or humorous conclusion. My head is fucked, my eyes are red, my body is heavy and every time I dream I can still feel just as much heartache as when I’m conscious. There’s still no relief and it’s hard pretending that it’s getting better and there’s only so long people can sympathise with you for and I feel like a fucking dick.
Now I’m going to watch Celebrity Big Brother (my very, very guilty pleasure). At least I’m not as big a dick as that Teen Mom Farah chick, ugh she’s insufferable! Sorry to anyone who’s sick and tired of me being sick and tired…
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P.S. He liked one of my Instagram pictures. Like, what the fuck?! GET OUT OF MY LIFE YOU DEVIL