sext: i want to pay bills and share household duties and approach our late 20’s in a financially and emotionally stable way with you
Becoming frighteningly tempting to have this.
Have you felt your heart breaking in your chest?
First the slight notion, the dread that builds as you realize. Then comes the fear, striking down like lightning, paralyzing. The realization interlaces itself with your emotions, and you feel dead, or at least like you just as well could be. There are two remaining options, you either shut off completely, or the tears start to press on your eyes, quickly running down your cheeks in rivers. For me, it was tears. Then altered breathing. Panic. Terror. Hyperventilation. No breathing. Hyperventilation. No breathing. It burns. Your chest feels heavy, starts to hurt.
Your heart breaks.
I got a call from the boy that I love. I could tell from the first second, from his breathing, that things weren’t all right. I became worried. To be told that he doesn’t know who he is, that he doesn’t want to live. My heart tightened into a knot the size of an acorn, it felt like. I couldn’t stop crying. I wanted to just keep him on the phone through the night so I knew he’d be ok, but I couldn’t. He left, and I panicked. I feared the worst. My eyes are still sore, stinging, probably red as well. I would have ran all the way to where he is if that didn’t take longer than until he comes home tomorrow.
He called me again. I cried even harder. He told me he was with people now, that it was better. I told him I was terrified. That fear whenever I think someone might… I won’t even think about it, but that fear is paralyzing. It renders me unable to do a single thing. I can’t breathe, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t stop crying, worrying. He sounded like it was at least a little better, I believed his voice and his breathing, his whole way of being. He apologized for worrying me, but something so little doesn’t matter as long as I know he’s coming back to me. That he’ll be here, in my arms, tomorrow. In the same condition as when he left me.
My heart sewed itself back together knowing, but the stitches will be there for a while. A scare like that can’t just be put away when you don’t want to use locking mechanisms, it’ll just open the door and stroll back out into broad daylight, never minding your protests. No, I have to make it go away with time. I think this one might take long. Very long.
I have never in my life been so scared.
Rereading old things because I am making a movie and I need to look into myself to do so.
Coming across this hurt. I realise I am not over all the pain of my last relationship yet. The strain it put on me. Just how much it hurts when someone is begging and pleading for your help (when they’re not too busy shutting you out) and you can’t do anything to help them. I tried. I really did. But I was only just turned 19 when I met him. I am only now beginning to realise that I cannot blame myself for not having been able to help him. I tried. I did all that I could, but he needed more help than I could give. More than I had the ability to give him. I told him so. I tried to get him to find someone that could help him, but he wouldn’t. That hurts. I couldn’t help the boy I loved. That hurts. I still feel like a lot of what went wrong was my fault, that I am to blame for it, that I hurt him. I am trying to let go.
I haven’t realised until now just how much it hurt me and what kind of damage it actually left. I am glad I am beginning to see it now. This way I can work past it and move on.
Imagination really can be so much worse than reality.
Why did I have to go an get involved with someone who is polyamorous. I do not know if I can handle this. And I am looking forwards to him returning so that I can talk to him about it. Be honest with him about it.
The problem right now is that whenever I see pictures of her with him, of things they do, I feel the jealousy and insecurity stir up in me. I spent a great part of yesterday reading up on polygamy do’s and don’ts. On just how important communication is. On how you can make it work if you don’t know if you’re poly yourself. I’m not even sure what his and my relationship is. That is why I need to talk to him. I am not sure what theirs is, that is another reason. I know he will answer when I ask. This thought calms me. The only thing is that right now I do not know any of the answers. And it is making me feel bad. Because my head comes up with all of these scenarios that are most likely worse and more frightening than the truth.
Oh fuckity fuck when did life become so complicated?
I have the strangest ability to get into all these weird situations.
When did I become grown up enough to actually talk about these things instead of just running away?
do you remember the first time you were called annoying?
how your breath stopped short in your chest
the way the light drained from your eyes, though you knew your cheeks were ablaze
the way your throat tightened as you tried to form an argument that got lost on your tongue.
your eyes never left the floor that day.
you were 13.
you’re 20 now, and i still see the light fade from your eyes when you talk about your interests for “too long,”
apologies littering every other sentence,
words trailing off a cliff you haven’t jumped from in 7 years.
i could listen to you forever, though i know speaking for more than 3 uninterrupted minutes makes you anxious.
all i want you to know is that you deserve to be heard
for 3 minutes
for 10 minutes
for 2 hours
there will be people who cannot handle your grace, your beauty, your wisdom, your heart;
mostly because they can’t handle their own.
but you will never be
and have never been
Sitting here eating breakfast and realizing that in a relationship I’d rather have someone that will be my best friend the rest of my life than a whirlwind romance. I’d rather want something nice and calm and safe and good than something that’s always exciting. This is a personal breakthrough, methinks.
I want to be kind to you. That is my nature. That is who I am. I want to be nice and kind and sweet. I want to do those little things that I know will make you smile. I want to do things that make you happy, no matter what they are, because nothing makes me feel better than making others feel good.
That is what I want. That is what I do. What I need, on the other hand, is something different.
I need for you to help me let out that other side of me. The almost animalistic side of me where I feel so feline in my responses. Where I claw and bite and scratch or rub my cheek up against your hand all depending on the situation. Where I can cry. Where I can get angry. Where I might scream because I do not care if someone hears it. That side which is everything I keep locked down. I need you to set me free from myself.
"You are more home than
the house I live in."
When F returns I will tell him that I need things put clearly and ask him to tell me where I actually stand - what place I hold in his life.
I am not sure what I’ll do, though.
I am not sure his lifestyle is compatible with my weaknesses and fears. I will talk to him first, and consider whether to pursue things or walk away before I become too involved.
Approximately seven hours of sleep later and everything is better again.
"Stop acting so fucking wounded. The only person that can pick you up, push back your shoulders, wipe the tears, mend the broken bones, and get you out of your slump is you.
Now go and live,
there is so much to be happy about."
"Things I tell myself when I feel as though the world is too big for me" (via moaka)
Mood diving straight for the cold hard ground. This always happens when I become self conscious. Afraid. Worried. Doubtful. It is late and I am tired. I think that has an impact too. Forcing myself to stay awake until I am done with this assignment, then sweet sleep.
I am not feeling good. When I am not feeling good, the impulses return. The desire to do stupid things. To not think. To pay no heed to consequence. To seek danger in all the wrong ways to find something that really hurts.
I realise it is a problem that they way I deal with feeling insecure is seeking out danger and harm and bad decisions, but as of now that is how I cope. I will keep myself from acting on it, but it is oh, so tempting.
I am so weak sometimes.
…And now I’m hungry and I don’t want to eat and I feel like I might start crying. That escalated quickly.
Fuck tonight. Fuck all this goddamn insecurity. Fuck it all.
(Writing this down so that I will remember it and hopefully maybe learn from it at some point. So I can look back later and laugh and say “oh, how silly I was”.