March 5th, 2015
|11:09 pm - I want out|
Your relationship is your own.
Whether or not I would make the same decisions is irrelevant. I can't tell you to stay and I can't tell you to leave. You have to decide this for yourself and I am not trying to weigh in with my opinion.
However, this house is not just yours and his (to be precise its not his at all).
I am not okay with living in a hostile environment. I love this house. I love the garden and I love sharing with you.
I have tried to be tolerant of him. As an individual I have no liking for him but I have tried to honour your choice of him as an extension of you. ( I am sure I make plenty of decisions with which you don't agree and I do appreciate that you don't judge me on these and I would wish to extend similar courtesy towards you). However, I am sick of this. I hate conflict. I have backed out of my own romantic situations because I am not okay with being reduced to tears and hiding. I am not prepared to be put in that situation by anyone. I don't feel that I can relax in this house anymore unless I am shut in my own room. That could maybe make for an acceptable compromise if my room weren't a north-facing box the size of a postage stamp with walls the thickness of paper.
I geneuinely feel scared in my own house. I know he wouldn't actually take you bank card and spend it on prostitutes and he doesn't really hit you and I know he'd be fucking stupid if he ever raised a hand against me but this is hardly the sort of reassuarnce which I am happy to live with.
I could say I don't pay £650 a month (plus bills) for this but the point isn't the money. I'm sure I could have any number of financially desirable but emotionally shit situations and I don't want any of them. The fact that this is rubbish in both respects is merely an aside.
I don't want to turn this into a conflict with you because I genuinely love and respect you but I don't know how to put up boundaries against him without it looking like an attack on you. Can you imagine how fucking hurtful it is to lie in my room crying because of how aggressive I feel he is being and still having to listen to you guys having sex? I don't want to have to make you choose between the two of us, not because I am trying to be nice but because I know you would choose him every single time.
I have played the shit relationship game. I have been scared, I have realised there is no future, I have dreaded each and every phone call, cried, appoligised, given up everything I loved. It never worked. It never does. You need to find this out for yourself. I am not willing to be a side-victim in this though. I don't want a shitty abusive man but at least if I was dating him myself I would presumably get the good sex and the occasional flashes of supportiveness. As it is I have absofuckinglutely nothing except for the fear frustration and anger. I should not have to hide in my own home. There has to be a line.
January 21st, 2015
|02:46 am - Taking full control|
I am hiding from my problems.
This needs to stop.
I made a resolution to find a nice me and to be it. Things haven't exactly been sticking to plan so far but that isn't an excuse not to succeed now.
There has to be more to life than tears and avoidance of responsibility and that sinking feeling inside as self-doubt slowly coalesces into actual failiure. I will stop wallowing and I will not let myself give up. This isn't some kind gesture I am offering anyone else so saying “I don't care!” just can't be true. It is something I need to do to survive.
I want to live.
I want to live well.
I want to be something I can love and be proud of. Nothing else matters; if I have that, then I have everything.
I have been given opportunities and chances, I just need to provide the strength and determination to fuel them. Face up to the shadows of my demons and fight them down rather than being paralysed with fear until they grow to big to fight.
I shall succeed. I will be a nice me.
January 11th, 2015
|11:52 pm - Shoes (autosave rescue)|
For a barefoot girl, I seem to have a lot of moments defined by shoes.
The pink one I wasn't ready to never have occasion for.
Am I ready to have no occasion for the red?
Why am I so scared of commitment? Only able to long for that which cannot happen or certainly cannot last.
Why am I so filled with self-doubt that I can only want someone or something when others do?
Am I being selfish? Yes.
Its that all? I don't know.
|11:51 pm - Fool in love...|
I don't know what I really think any longer. I am playing games for sure but who is the victim?
Do I want things just because I can't have them or has it taken this long for eyes to actually open? Not that it matters though. I'm still not allowed to do anything.
I want him back. So so much. I want to be loved, to hold, to give my love, to reach out rather than constantly retreating ever deeper within myself.
I love him.
I am not talking about the future. That is scary and unknown and I am too much of a disaster to even contemplate it but right now, I am butterflies in my stomach in love.
Silly, silly me.
November 13th, 2014
Fuck talking therapy. I choose gin.
October 21st, 2014
|11:10 pm - I have |never
The ?week of chaos.
I honestly don't know what has come over me (and before you snark, I'm not asking "who" and the answer isn't gin - gin and I go way back).
The tally begins with extensive bruising, sore neck, "honestly-its-not-a-hickey", broken nose and broken resolution but guiltovers are hard (haha) to quantify so I'm not exactly sure where I stand.
From a personal point of view I don't categorically regret anything. Obviously there are incidents I'd omit from a re-run and I will have far more patient experience than I planned to by the time I have followed up on matters both of vanity and practicality but the well of shame I tapped into is solely in reference to the impact on others.
I don't know what is ok.
I don't know if saying = meaning
I also read something. I would say unrelatedly but the papertrail is entertainingly (although unintentionally) direct. (Shock horror, student reads! - You may gather I am not refering to the BNF or the back of a shampoo bottle)
It hit so very, very close.
Maybe I can thank this week for a circuitous route to self-reconciliation (the hat of absolution would have been simpler though).
July 13th, 2014
No there is not "something you should be worried about". I guesss I ought to be grateful for your concern but believe it or not your half-hearted pretence at caring is really not necessary. I don't want to be a burden and that appears to be the only term in which you can see me. Thanks, but I'll crash and burn alone. Maybe even mop afterwards.
At least I have some dignity if nothing else.
November 2nd, 2013
It's late, I am foolish and I wish I had some dignity. Tbh though - I'd swap dignity for bed and lack of headache. Am I that undesirable? Evidently so, but its dispiriting to be rejected so utterly.
Maybe next time I'll stop kidding myself and it'll stop hurting.
September 17th, 2013
|11:40 pm - Here's to the girl...|
She's a very foolish thing,
She's a very foolish thing,
She's a very foolish thing...
And thus I live my life on repeat, ever fearing lest opportunity for folly be denied to me. Sliding down the bannister is fine but replaying the emotions of a sixteen year old wears thin.
For myself (obvs) but also for the pawns and bystanders. I doubt it's much consolation that I surprise myself just as much?
September 15th, 2011
And this is when I learn why consigning my past and my privacy to the internet was always a totally brilliant plan...
I am apparently only three years late in realising that Gj has utterly dissapeared and along with it about a year of my deepest thoughts (which, like all fifteen-year-old's journals were of course very profound). Woe, woe is me. Xanga has eaten my soppy surfy theme and on abandoned bebo I find a friend request that I would have killed for seven years ago.
I can't cling onto every lucky stone and treasured ice-cream spoon but the ones I remember still make me smile. Maybe names in the sand will one day wash up on a tropical beach.