I wrote this to Moon December 21st, 2014… it’s only taken a year to post it.

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I have these moments of pure disgust for you and the way that you have so many times disregarded my feelings.

An anger that is indescribable builds inside and it makes my stomach turn and my skin tingle when I think about how I know that you still use the same lips that try to convince me of how much you love me to try to convince your new girl of exactly the same things with most likely the same lines…

Maybe you were right when you said that I will never be able to let the past about her go… but do you know why?

Because you have never once let her go.

You have lied to me, most definitely her, and everyone else.

You are pathetic with the way you try to use the love that I have for you to your advantage. You come to me when your little pet is out with people and friends her own age but run right back to her if she shows you any sign of attention.

I am even more pathetic for giving you an outlet.

I won’t any longer.

Next time you are so intoxicated that you can hardly send a coherent text, your dick is raging, and you’re feeling sorry for yourself… Call her(Oh wait.. I’m sure you did but she was not available to you) tell her how you want to end it all and how you have fucked up and feel so terrible. How nothing is worth it and blah fucking blah blah blah…

Because the reason why you want to give up has nothing to do with the fact that you lost me and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that you know your little band-aid isn’t a permanent fix, or a permanent ANYTHING, but you’re so fucking addicted to her it’s become sickening.

But I’ll be the hater and the bitch and the whatever the fuck else you want me to be.

And just like that the anger and hurt has taken over and replaced any good that I have felt with you.

It’s so easy to hold on to the hurt and anger. It’s so easy to become lost in it and let it take over. It’s too easy to sit back and let the anger flow from my soul through my fingertips at lightening fast speed and replace all the longing I have for you with dislike. If I hold on to all this bad then I can’t focus on how much I hurt from all the great that you made me feel.

And do you think after all of this that I hate you?

No fucking way…

I hate myself.

More than I could ever hate another being… almost as much as I hate the love that you have for Her… almost.

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A silence broken. Maybe you like my silence better. I do.

I’m back from the dead. I think. I am pretty sure I know what it feels like to die now. Or at least I now know what it feels like to beg to be done and for someone to end it. I spent days writhing in pain, begging for some one or thing to take the pain and fever away. I have never felt the pain in my joints and muscles like I felt when I was sick. I even thought someone was trying to poison me at one point.  I was ready to be taken to the hospital. Or to die. Whichever could happen fastest? And I was like this for days. I ate 5 saltines in about 3 days. It was bad. And the stress from Hurricane Black didn’t help I am sure.  I had no idea the flu could bring a grown woman to a crying sobbing mess.

Writing doesn’t comfort me the way it used to. I don’t understand why. I want to write so badly. I want to be able to feel that release I would feel after getting everything out but I can’t. And I think it is going to drive me crazy. I know that this HUGE case of block is not helping but I feel like it might be more than that.

Perhaps it is that I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know how to ‘fake’ it here in my writing. I am a pro at flipping on the fake when needed, as long as I have my props, sunglasses and fake smiles. But when it comes to writing, well, I can’t fake this shit. When I write it is from the now, the real, the raw, and most of the times the oh so fucking ugly. And I feel like I have been so full of ugly for so long that I try to write ‘pretty’. But when I attempt to sort through the mess and pick out the good and the pretty I find myself lost in the blackness and feel like I am swallowed whole and then all the pretty is lost and I feel like I have nothing. So nothing is what I write.

I find that the silence is not even an option any longer. So there is always music on. Loud. Really loud. I avoid sitting. I try to keep my mind and body as busy as possible. Even now I feel like I should be up cleaning but since I have a load in both the washer and dryer and everything already folded and put away I am trying to convince myself that it is okay to sit here and get some shit out. So sit I am. With the music blaring. And the cursor blinking.

So shit is pretty messy here. I have been writing about it. I am just keeping them in a folder for now. Perhaps a blog will be born someday from them. But for now they will stayed buried where all things, dark, scary, shameful, and full of black belong, in a folder hidden on my computer.

I am battling this the only way I can. By the seat of my fucking pants. Fist flying. I still need to battle this beast on my own though.

I need to prove to myself that I can do this. I need to do this to prove that I am not the things I am told I am. And that I am everything I am told I can never be.

I need to find me. I don’t know where to even begin but I know that 5 years is a long time to be wandering lost and I am ready to find the way back to the living.

I am so sorry. I know you beg me to not push. To not give up. And I want you to know that I am not giving up on US. But I need to find ME and fix what happened here while I was so busy lost in US. I am not giving up though. I hope that after I can stand on my own two feet, all by myself with no help, we will find our way back to US. I in no way expect you to ‘wait’ for me. And if you don’t. I understand. But I can’t be distracted right now. And you distract me. US distracts me.

I was so lost in US that I didn’t see how terrible things were here. I was so busy lost in the tingles, the stolen breaths’, and sparkles that I didn’t see my world deteriorating around me.

So now, when you whisper your words and they fall over me like a soft blanket I start to panic. I am so scared that I will get lost in US again and the blackness will take over again and I will be too distracted to see. And we both know how easily I fall into US. Was it not just last night that I startled awake not remembering how I fell into such a peaceful slumber? I can’t allow that to happen. I don’t fall asleep with out tossing and turning and it makes it so much harder to do this alone when I am reminded of what US feels like.

I have been avoiding all things internet related. For days. If I avoid the internet I am not temped to message you. And since my cell phone has been MIA since I survived the flu from fucking hell last week and I haven’t ‘had the time’ to look for it then texting is not an option. Add that I have been avoiding this place like the BLACK fucking plague, because it is so full of black, and it appears that plan No Contact has been fairly successful.

Sorry about that. But I have to battle this dark, blackness filled, depression inducing fucking beast on my own.

I miss you. I love you. I am so sorry. I hope you understand why I have to do this.

Goodnight my Moon. Please don’t hate me.