Regrets.

The weekend before last, I wrote about feeling lost because She has unfollowed and blocked me on Instagram. Yesterday, I believe it became clear-er why she did that. From some things that were said here and there, it would seem that she was rather upset seeing me relaxing with my friends and playing Cards Against Humanity enough that She, being impulsive, decided to take that out of her feed. Apparently, She misses hanging out and having fun with me. Well… Isn’t that something 7

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Day 63. Coming To Terms.

An interesting conversation with the mind technician today. I have realised some time ago that at times I could be a total prick. I’m working on it. But now I am also┬árealising that I am still devoted to Her and somehow feel guilty for doing stuff to occupy myself in order to forget about Her. How fucked up is that?

Day 50. Picking Up.

Well, this is no good. Between the pain in the wrist and in my blogging thumbs and just generally feeling sick, I have completely forgot about blogging.

To be honest though, I have been feeling a bit better lately and as usual I deluded myself into thinking that I am better.

But I’m not. In the past, I have tended to latch onto an idea or a goal that would get me feeling excited and optimistic. And I would latch onto it with the thinking that it would make everything better because the problem was outside of myself rather than inside of me.

I have got to stop doing that!

I need to work on getting myself better. I have to work on changing my patterns of negative and defeatist thinking. Otherwise, I will not get healthy and will continue to carry this pain inside.

One of the reasons I am so fucked up right now is because I have thought of my last relationship the same way as I did about my other obsessions: this will make everything right. So when She left me, the sense of loss of my greatest love was perversely intertwined with the sense of loss of my better self. Even though that was never the case – that relationship, nor any other relationship, would have “cured” me – I still can’t help but mourn the loss of that future.

And regardless of everything else, I still love Her and think of Her constantly.

Day 46. My Version Of Cutting?

I should have let my knee and my wrist more time to rest but instead the innate force of familial responsibility has overcome my soul and I went to help my mother with her garden. So three hours later, after spending that time digging up clay and on my knees digging out dandelions.

Me remembering Her is my equivalent of self-harming, cutting. My memories of Her are like dandelions, spreading their roots everywhere through my subconscious, unable to be removed without leaving pieces of themselves around and sprouting back up just when I think they are gone. One accidental glimpse of her life and I am reduced to a quivering puddle of snot and tears. How long can this torture go on? I can’t breathe, my pulse is racing so hard that every heartbeat is a deafening noise in my ears, my blood feels like it is boiling hot in my veins, my mind is on fire.

I need to stop! This has to stop!

Standing Fast.

I’m having trouble concentrating. Although this should be a happy morning, the reality seems to be leaving a lot to be desired. I am invited to a BBQ at my old climbing partner’s and long time friend’s house. Normally free food makes me giddy but somehow today it has lost its allure. Later on I will be going to the theatre to try to get back into improv. I took time away from it for a few weeks to try to get some perspective.

There’s a maelstrom of “what if’s” and “if only’s” swirling around in my mind. I turn around onto my stomach and put the pillow under my chest for more comfort.

The time stops.

Somehow surviving the washing machine or maybe coming off something else a single strand of Her hair is laying on my bed sheets.

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My heart starts beating harder and harder and it becomes difficult to breathe and to keep typing this post. My mind is burning up with sorrow.

What do I do? I know I will not just get rid of it. I can’t!!!
What if… If only…
I don’t know anything any more.

Day 18. I Think Of You. (Letter #4.)

I listen to music and I think of you.
I walk in the streets and my feet keep taking me to you.
I run away but my mind stays.
I take to a new road, one to take me away from you.
When I look at the road ahead, all I see is a hopelessness with your face appearing through the fog.
When I run back, there’s nothing but a a memory of you, full of pain.
So I stop here that is nowhere.
I fall to my knees and scream into the void.
I search for you with my mind but all I find is more pain.
I try to eat but food has lost its taste.
I try to drink but instead of sweet release your image shines brighter in my mind. It gains in power and its brightness sears your face deeper into the recesses of my id.
I scream to the heavens to take me but my darkness, my everpresent darkness keeps dragging me down.
I am hellbound and I welcome the prospect of new pain, different paid, for it will surely distract me from the pain of your memory.
I reach for a blade, for the pills, for the booze but nothing can free me. I am locked in the prison that is your memory. I am dying, locked forever in the bottomless pit of its darkest dungeon.
I am yours and yours alone, my love.
I am nothing to you and it kills me slowly. And yet it is as though I am being kept alive.
I become a spectre, a mere apparition devoid of matter for my substance has been burned away.
I hear happy sounds of brass Instruments. A small orchestra is singing of hope in the key of major. But my life is stuck in minor for there is no hope for me.
My heart starts beating harder bringing fresh memory of you. It is trying to burst out of my aching chest.
Alas. It beats in vain. I live in vain. I am alive yet dead. I am no more.