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I’m a wreck today, and I know why, and I know what I have to do about it, but I can’t get myself to do it, and now I can’t get myself to do anything at all.

My ex is trying to impose himself back in the picture. It’s stupid, but here we are, it’s all that’s on my mind, so if I’m not going to do what I have to do to get him out of here I might as well accept it.

I remember how it was when I was with him. It was like this every day. Every damn day, for years, and years, and what many people consider a whole life. It was my whole life.

Every day, miserable. Just thoroughly miserable. Suicide attempts which I regret, but the minute I talk to him I just regret that they didn’t work, that I let myself fuck up the one thing that could have actually gone well in my life, ending it. And he saved me, which makes no sense. He clearly hated me the whole time.

But I know he can’t live without me. What a terrible life it must be for him. I know some things about what that must be like. I’m obviously, as I sit here, alone and already crying, I’ve been crying all day, it took me 4 hours to actually get up to get here, across the same goddamn room, so painfully obviously not much better at dealing with things than him. I don’t know the right way, but I do know that it can’t possibly be this. Just yelling at someone else all day and doing nothing but that about any problems.

I did that for him. He sat around thoroughly miserable, blaming me for the entirety of it, maybe sometimes for some things he was right. However, I was the one that had to go out and fix everything that he thought was wrong with life. Every time there was not enough money, either one of us was sick, IRS audits, I had to fix it.

And here he goes again.

It’s just a shame he was so beautiful.

But fuck it, I was too. And he never even looked at me.

I used to imagine that at my funeral, while I was waiting to bleed out of the only wrist that I could hold a knife to after he dislocated the other shoulder, or drifting off into whatever chemical oblivion I hoped would finally be better than having someone so beautiful tell me once again that I was the worst thing that ever happened to anyone, that I was selfish, and not good enough, and just a horrible whore and no good to anyone and an embarrassment to his family, and there was not enough money in the account and why don’t I just go fuck someone for it and obviously I’m not good enough or I’d get as much money as the white girls on the internet and now he can’t touch me because I’m a dirty whore and I’m so pathetic I can’t even kill myself… I used to imagine that at my funeral they would say that it was a shame I was so beautiful.

I wasted my whole life trying to be good enough for that piece of trash.

And now what is this.

I used to believe that he loved me. I can understand how he doesn’t believe that I loved him.

I can understand.

I remember how much of my time out of every day that I tried so hard to be understood. I realize now that he never wanted to understand, he only gathered information to hurt me. What a miserable person.

I feel so much better when I never talk to him. I just need to get on with that.

Take ’em to court

The boy, in response to so many situations that have nothing to do with court at all.

There’s really no resolution in the past relationship. I woke up and saw that he sent 4 pages of dialogue doing nothing but rewriting our past to make himself look better.

I no longer regret scarring his face. It’s the one thing that he can’t just write over. I do regret the fact that I did it, I don’t want to hurt anyone.

That’s a lie.

Crying, breathing. I can’t afford to lose every day like this.

I have a few sips of coffee left, and a lot of fear.

I’m afraid that the boy will end up being like this. It’s an unfair fear. However it’s not. It’s an unfair fear because I set him up to be that feared object, to take the place of the monster that was there before.

He does have some scary elements. Why am I doing this to myself.

That’s a whole separate wormhole, for a whole other day.

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