Why do I offer my entire being to the people I love? I never end up getting the same in return. It’s exhausting and draining and it leaves me feeling so empty and alone.
Why do people try so hard at the beginning jusf to turn themselves off when it becomes “real” and yet I keep going. Giving all of myself until I’m literally handing fragments of myself to a wall. I guess it’s why I feel so fucking worthless all the damn time.
It’s almost been 3 weeks sence I kicked him out. I told him to work on his program and himself and hoped like hell we could find us again. Sence then it just keeps hurting. Missing him. His disengagement on some days and love on others. It’s killing me, I’m falling apart every fucking day.
I don’t know how he can tell me he loves me and walk away from me when I cry. I don’t know how I can open myself up to him, put all my feelings in words while holding his hand and he can give me a silence in return that stretches until I want to scream, or sob, or both.
This is killing me. This entire thing I try so hard. I give and I give and I’m getting met with anger and resistance and I don’t know what ellse.
I want tenderness, and apologies, the real ones, not the ones you say to get in bed, or a roof over your head. The ones you mean so deeply you struggle because you feel so damn guilty and you do your best to show in now just words but actions how much regret you have for your carelessness. I want honesty and openness and the ability to no longer cry myself to sleep every night:
I don’t know what happened here, if he got tired of pretending, or if his adiction and character defects and mental illness are just taking hold of him. Either way some accountability is needed. Not surface level because he has to, but the real soul bearing kind that is hard but worth it in the end.
I’m sitting here alone and feeling lower then I have in a long time. I don’t have a productive job to escape in, I don’t have games to get lost in, and I will not allow myself to take refuge in bodies.
I don’t get to escape the crushing Wright that try as I might he will do what he does. He will hurt me. He will “love” me. He will treat me like I matter, and fuck me like a body who doesn’t. He will make love to me like I’m precious, and treat my feelings like problems not things to talk about and attempt to understand. I’m caught in the darkness of knowing how I love him isn’t going to change that. I can’t change that. It’s not a matter of not being enough, but it sure feels like it when you bend yourself in half and your met with detachment and disinterest.
I’m falling apart and I wish he cared enough to try to salvage the wreckage but it feels so empty.