Thursday, June 4, 2015

Fuck me fuck me fuck me

Maybe it's not a good idea that I read his blog and he reads mine. I question my goodness as a human being. I'm smashing his heart. And I am breaking my own.

I am a destroyer of love.

The loudest rock music. Pound it into my fucking bones. Beat me to a pulp. I sit here between cases, customer retention, defect digs, and process analysis wanting to destroy my own life. Nothing so morbid as suicide but to just chuck everything at the garbage bin and run away. Quit this job, this life, and move to another town.

Crazy talk.

I share the same wants. Monogamy. Possible marriage. Lifelong companionship. Emotional intimacy.

But I am this ugly shape. I'm hardly ready and I never knew it. I'm the thing that doesn't fit. I am trying to become. I am trying to figure things out - but he needs a best friend to support him. I can't be the best friend AND the love interest when I'm questioning the very nature of relationships and myself.

Fuck. What if this is the last time we are Chance and Shawn? I thought that we would be forever. 

I want to scream. I want to run. I want destroy. I'm not sure what this all is. I keep this mask on tight, burying myself in the work. It isn't for anybody else to hold other than me. I am responsible for my own feelings and emotions and choices.

I will be there to accept and live through the repercussions. 

My therapist and I speak about the need for finding myself. Empathy breather. Turn inward toward myself. Hold myself like a cast to let the broken bones knit and mend themselves back together or form new, stronger, structures. How can I love anyone when I'm this disjointed? Am I lovable? Am I worthy? Do I trust myself?

I want the answer to be yes to those things.

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