I just keep on going. I’m an ugly amalgamation of boredom, frustration, energy and sadness.
I know how I ended up here but I still don’t understand it.
I feel like I can’t cope-but obviously I can. I am still here. I am still plodding along. I am still admired and liked and loved. I am still alive, still earning money, still improving myself and still working.
He tried to break me but he failed. I win. It shouldn’t be a fight.
It became one. But slowly. Actually perhaps not that slowly.
He wants me to be as bad as him. He wants me to hurt the same way he does. He doesn’t understand a normal commication method, there’s no talking to him. No him listening. Writing it down doesn’t help-he can’t read it properly.
Alcohol is evil. So why can’t I sleep and am now sitting drinking the evil that did it to him.
But I stop when enough has saturated my brain. Not much. He doesn’t. He carries on.
Life is boring. He just sits. We argue because I am better than this. I’ve had enough but I can’t leave-where would I go, who do I run to?
I run to myself. At least my head’s a space I am happy.
I was berated, told to leave, told my things were being chucked out of the house. He tried to make me feel small.
I didn’t. I feel ridiculous perhaps-I shouldn’t be here! When people say they pinch themselves, they feel it positively. I feel I should pinch myself to check this isn’t a well-anaeshetised nightmare. It isn’t. You know what I did, I went to work. And I earned money. Money gives me power.
Jesus Christ the former love of my life, you’re boring. BORING. I want to live!I am relatively young. I am beautiful, passionate, energetic, ambitious. What the hell are you playing at. I guess that’s your business. You’ll have nothing by the means of business, if you carry on.
Yes, fervent, I am damn proud of you. I know how strong you are now. But sometime, maybe, you won’t have to prove it any longer.