The Art of Obscenity

It’s kind of ironic I’m having such a good day today. I realised this morning, pushed it aside out of respect, but then it popped back into my head at lunch. First time in six years I’m not going to wish you a happy birthday. A part of me wonders if you aren’t waiting for it like you did every year. Even at our worst it was the one day a year I wouldn’t ignore you, couldn’t ignore you. It made me happy to know it made your day because you were my whole life once. The first person to ever break through to me, to show me I was truly wrong, the reason that led to all this self reflection and change. But then you came back one more time, and it finally sunk in I didn’t need you anymore, didn’t need to make you happy to give myself value. It showed me once and for all just how much I’d changed in 5 years. So I won’t wish you a happy birthday, won’t ever text you, call you, e-mail you again. It’s sad but it’s not, cause life goes on and I have no regrets. I really hope you have the greatest day, cause that’s who I am, but I don’t need you to know it, I don’t ever need to be a part of your life again, and I’m fine with that.

Fuck me sideways. Drixel created a new POF account and of course they just had to suggest her to me as a match. AGAIN. Fuck you POF.

I shouldn’t complain though, because a) I only logged in to change my profile to say I’m in a relationship now, and b) It means things didn’t work out with her other guy, so I guess she lost her best friend for nothing. Her loss. I’m better off.

There’s more than one side in this. I don’t want a relationship in the sense that I want to be sure of my decision next time because I’ve fucked up so royally before. But that’s not to say I don’t want to be loved. To be a part of something larger than I am. The thing is I can barely handle one new person in my life at a time. One. Barely. Even that’s a mind fuck because I’ve always been alone. Living with my parents I was alone. B lived in a different city, I saw her every weekend or second weekend. Me and Drixel spent more time apart than together, it just spanned a ridiculously long time. I am a solitary person. It’s the worst possible state to be in, but I’ve learned how to handle it much better than I ever learned how to let another person inside my head. Inside my heart. The idea literally fills me with panic. I become unhinged. So no, I don’t want a relationship because a relationship is with a person, and her friends, and her parents, and her whole fucking life. I fucked up my relationships because I could not handle exactly those things. I could love someone completely and totally as long as it’s just me and her against the world, but go outside those doors and I’m a fucking wreck.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this honest about it.

Fuck, now I want to cry. Scratch that. Am crying.

This has been a terrible fucking day.

maybe i was wrong and i don’t belong, no i don’t belong

It’s not really so hard to figure out why I want to crawl under a rock and disappear.

5 years ago to the day, Christmas Eve 2006, I experienced the single happiest moment of my entire life. The kind of moment so beautiful and serene that you’d only expect to see it in a movie. A week later the whole thing imploded and a part of my heart just died.

For three months I retreated more and more from life until one day I couldn’t eat anymore. Anything I put in me I just threw back up. For an entire week I was in and out of the emergency room. They put me through every single test they could think of, but to them there wasn’t a single thing wrong with me.

It was only going back to therapy that made me stop. It was Claude who figured out my body was dying because I no longer cared. I had given up so completely in my mind that it was affecting me physically. He got me to wake up enough mentally that I could eat again and keep going.

What he didn’t know though was that I kept going to therapy only to find out all the things that mattered to me so I could destroy them and destroy myself. I felt cheated somehow that I hadn’t died. For the next year and a half that’s exactly what I chased after. I threw away, destroyed or hurt everything that had any value to me. Until one day I had no job, no friends, never left my apartment, quit therapy. I woke up and realised that if I killed myself no one would know. Maybe for days, maybe for weeks. Not until the landlord got annoyed enough to come and see why I wasn’t paying my rent.

I came within inches, it was going to happen, the plan was all laid out. But somehow I discovered I couldn’t go through with it. Even with absolutely nothing left to care about some part of me absolutely refused to stop drawing breath. Despite destroying it all, I had learned there were things I cared about. That I could care. Somehow it seeped into my brain even while I was trying to make things worse.

That day was 3 years and 3 months ago. I’ve struggled an insane amount to turn myself around since then. From absolutely nothing, no friends, no family, no money, no support, I forced myself to rebuild my life. Rebuild my brain.

Yet somehow, despite all that, despite everything I’ve done for myself, I will never forget that this all happened because I trusted someone. I may have learned to trust myself better, but people aren’t worth it. They will fuck you over, they will let you down, and the idea of letting someone else into my heart so they can fuck it all up again is the last thing I ever want.

It’s too bad I know that if I never do again then I would have been better off ending things 3 years ago.

I am at war inside myself.

but you promised that you’d not abandon me
and then kissed my fears away
but i woke up to that day
forgotten

so i memorised the colour of your eyes as i lost myself inside you
and i memorised the way our legs entwined as i drifted off beside you
i miss
god i miss
waking up beside you

The irony of feeling sad about a girl you loved while listening to a song sent to you by another girl who loved you.

you’ll always have a place in my heart

i say hello… you run to me
do it so… comfortably