Sunday, 07/06/03 - 3:47 pm.
There are days when this voice on the back of my head asks: so what are you going to do about that?.
About all the things I keep inside that beat me down. That make ME beat myself down.
I wish I could just block those thoughts and memories. I need a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.
I'm trying to. I don't want to hear about Denver in my head anymore. My mind insists on bringing him up over and over, saying it's not fair. IT IS NOT FAIR, I KNOW! And what am I going to do about that? NOTHING! what am I supposed to do?
"Hi.
Listen, believe it or not, you hurt me a lot. I hate you for that, and although I don't feel the good things I used to feel about you I still think of you. I'm sorry I let you happen in my life. You never gave a fuck about me, and that's ok, not everybody has to, it's just that you always made me think the opposite until...a certain point(actions can be eloquent, you know?).
I am aware of how unimportant I am to you and that to you there was no damage caused, I am aware I was the dumb one and stuff...but I also think there must be some truth to this, and that you should be a little more careful.
I don't want your pity or any "apology" for something you're not even sorry for. I just need to take this out. Work a little on your lack of empathy and shallowness and maybe you'll understand that.
Thanks for reading this far. Fuck you, and have a life as good as you'd like to see it".
...well, that could be a choice, couldn't it?
But I'm so angry. So, so angry. Angry, angry, angry. Pissed off. Not only at him. But I'm trying to block the bad things and focus on the good things (because. there. are.), but it's the voice, the fuckin' voice...do something! don't let them get away with that! It's not fair for you, it's not fair for me, think of US!.
"Us"?
But no, it isn't fair. I don't cry and cut because...just because. I haven't cut in three weeks and it's actually not a big deal. Clean up the blood and there's still pain.
I hate getting so caught up in painful memories. They're not so painful except for the fact that those things that happened destroyed ME. My self-esteem, my secure world, my positive perspective (that I'd mix with a healthy dose of negativity to get a wholesome vision of reality)...everything that used to be held together inside of me. They destroyed it.
And it's maybe my fault for being so emotionally weak. For keeping everything inside so I wouldn't hurt them. Sometimes I think I was meant to be a miscarriage. Mom was a little old, anyway...I'm not going to go on the disgusting, positive side of that issue.
I like being free. I like my personal space. I like to stretch my arms and feel nothing that stops them. No other arms to hold me in. I'm still a loner, and a little ashamed to admit that there are and there will be days in which I don't think of my boyfriend.
I don't want (or "need") anyone to amend me. It can't be done. This is me now, I'm HURT. I don't feel a lot of things inside, and yet I feel so much. Good and bad.
What stands out is a fresh wound that doesn't heal. But so be it. It's mine. Mine, mine, mine.
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