Okay.
I need to start pulling myself together, because things have been not okay with me at all lately. To be honest, I have barely been functioning.
I think Skyler and I broke up last night. I remember me being angry and avoidant and not saying what I actually wanted to say because when do I ever say that? I only say what I mean when I look, when I write, when I touch. When I speak, the pride gets the better of me. Hurt twists my tongue.
And so I think I may have pushed away clarity. That I fully admit. It's on me. What's worse, I don't know if it can be fixed. Especially when I woke up to a list of attibutes that used to be me. I faltered, and less than 12 hours and there's already an updated list about his ideal woman. Just like that. I've apparently gotten so far away from the girl who used to make the grade that one item was added specifically because of me. It makes me feel... I can't even express it without crying again. So inadequate. So hurt. It felt like such a low blow, a public admonishment that I can't carry my own baggage. Because really, this depression I've been in is just baggage, right? I wish it were that easy. If it were easy, I'd have gotten over it by now. But it's *hard*, and it's a process, and it's a struggle not cured by stock responses. I know I can be that girl again. I know I can be strong. It will just take time and understanding and human contact.
Not that I'd want to censor someone else's feelings, but it's not like those weren't going to be the first things I saw when I logged on this morning, still reeling and regretful and apologetic. I guess I just didn't expect something that felt so... I don't know, exactly. I feel so exposed. I don't think I'm being overly sensitive in saying I think it was a little too soon, and it hurts more than I can properly express, even in writing. I keep wondering what the purpose is of reposting that so soon. Is it "this is my ideal, and you're not it?" That's what it feels like. I was told that I wanted a fairytale. I want some time, I want to feel wanted. I'm not the one with the 23-item list. I don't know how to feel about that, and I don't think anyone can be that perfect. Everyone has their moments, and people fall down. It happens. I fell. I guess that knocks my number down. I'm not ideal.
My heart is aching and I feel like I can't breathe. I can't concentrate. I feel alternately guilty and angry. Everything is underwater.
I've got to start fixing myself. It's going to be harder now because I never got to say things that I should have said. I think it might be too late, and a critical support is gone. No grace period, no reflection. Dialtone and voicemail. I need to stop asking the phone to ring. I keep checking my email, but it's always empty. Gone. I wish it weren't so, but if wishes were fishes... The bottom line is that I fucked up. All of my feelings of inadequacy took me over and I hurt the one person who was honestly trying to help me. I don't know if I'm going to forgive myself for that. Not until I make it right. I hope that I still have a chance to do that. I want to have hope.
I don't know when I'll be back. I'll probably read my friendslist, and I might comment from time to time, but please don't try to talk to me about this. I need flesh and blood right now. Marrow and bone. I need someone to hold me and stroke my hair and let me cry until it's all out.
I think Skyler and I broke up last night. I remember me being angry and avoidant and not saying what I actually wanted to say because when do I ever say that? I only say what I mean when I look, when I write, when I touch. When I speak, the pride gets the better of me. Hurt twists my tongue.
And so I think I may have pushed away clarity. That I fully admit. It's on me. What's worse, I don't know if it can be fixed. Especially when I woke up to a list of attibutes that used to be me. I faltered, and less than 12 hours and there's already an updated list about his ideal woman. Just like that. I've apparently gotten so far away from the girl who used to make the grade that one item was added specifically because of me. It makes me feel... I can't even express it without crying again. So inadequate. So hurt. It felt like such a low blow, a public admonishment that I can't carry my own baggage. Because really, this depression I've been in is just baggage, right? I wish it were that easy. If it were easy, I'd have gotten over it by now. But it's *hard*, and it's a process, and it's a struggle not cured by stock responses. I know I can be that girl again. I know I can be strong. It will just take time and understanding and human contact.
Not that I'd want to censor someone else's feelings, but it's not like those weren't going to be the first things I saw when I logged on this morning, still reeling and regretful and apologetic. I guess I just didn't expect something that felt so... I don't know, exactly. I feel so exposed. I don't think I'm being overly sensitive in saying I think it was a little too soon, and it hurts more than I can properly express, even in writing. I keep wondering what the purpose is of reposting that so soon. Is it "this is my ideal, and you're not it?" That's what it feels like. I was told that I wanted a fairytale. I want some time, I want to feel wanted. I'm not the one with the 23-item list. I don't know how to feel about that, and I don't think anyone can be that perfect. Everyone has their moments, and people fall down. It happens. I fell. I guess that knocks my number down. I'm not ideal.
My heart is aching and I feel like I can't breathe. I can't concentrate. I feel alternately guilty and angry. Everything is underwater.
I've got to start fixing myself. It's going to be harder now because I never got to say things that I should have said. I think it might be too late, and a critical support is gone. No grace period, no reflection. Dialtone and voicemail. I need to stop asking the phone to ring. I keep checking my email, but it's always empty. Gone. I wish it weren't so, but if wishes were fishes... The bottom line is that I fucked up. All of my feelings of inadequacy took me over and I hurt the one person who was honestly trying to help me. I don't know if I'm going to forgive myself for that. Not until I make it right. I hope that I still have a chance to do that. I want to have hope.
I don't know when I'll be back. I'll probably read my friendslist, and I might comment from time to time, but please don't try to talk to me about this. I need flesh and blood right now. Marrow and bone. I need someone to hold me and stroke my hair and let me cry until it's all out.