Adam and I talked. He says, "I love you more than anything. I am so sorry." Don't get me wrong, though, it did make me feel warm and gooey. It's just that....I am trying to move forward with my life and that shit...that shit he did was more than a little debilitating. Now, though, he says he wants to fix my car. He wants to make it right. In truth, how great would life be if he were normal and stable and good? Life would be near perfect. But regretably, the chances of that happening are slightly scewed.
So, I am going to write something quite terrible and quite unspeakable. Once I write this, I promise not to visit it again. But, during my walk yesterday to the store (since i have no car and no food in the house) my thoughts wandered and then stayed on a certain, shameful subject. My thoughts stayed there for so long that I bcame mortified and almost...bored.
It is no surprise to anyone that I do not like being alive. That I hate life. That I find no reason, no purpose and no real happiness. I feel that while I have too much sympathy, even empathy for others, it is indeed a rare and impossible trait in others. When I have been at my worst and deepest desperation, no one, no one is there and no one to make me care. I have lived through some terrible things...and not to bring back the past, but losing Max for that time was like suffering the death of my child. The pain was excrutiating. I remember lying on the floor at nights, unable to sleep, holding my sotmach and crying with abandon because the pain was so intense and overpowering. I remember waking up with such terrible stabs of anxiety that I could not get out of bed for hours, if at all. I remember wanting to die so badly and knowing that I could not take away a mother from my children. I suffered everyday and when I would talk to people about it...they were so distant and for them the reaction was this: you have so many. Let this child go. How much that hurt. How many tears I spilt. How I learnt that life is cruel and unfeeling. Everyone. Even those who alledgedly love me the most.
I still want to die. I still do not want to be here. I know that i am a failure. That although I am only 38, my skin is looser, my face is sadder and with wrinkles and other skin defects, I have no accomplishments to be proud of, I have nothing more to offer. I know that once men fell in love with me competely and wholly and now I could win a man only by being my nice, fake self full of life (that I hate) and fun and display my sweet and explosive happiness. If I were a man, how worthless would I be? I have a relatively low paying job and while I have an education....it is worthless (in so many peoples lives. It has enriched my life significantly but made me no money to speak of). I am a failure as a mother. My kids are fantastic but Holden should be reading by now. Mia should be better in school. Eric should be fostered and led into a better direction. It's not enough what I do. It's never enough.
I know this is why I stay with Adam. He doesn't love me. He never will. But no one does. Kurt took me home yesterday and acted like a dick because I did not want to have sex with him. Asshole. I hate that. I hate people with sex problems and I won't deal with it. Not again.
Adam doesn't have that problem.
I am sad. I hate my body. I hate myself. I hate and hate. And am ready to leave this place.
So, I am going to write something quite terrible and quite unspeakable. Once I write this, I promise not to visit it again. But, during my walk yesterday to the store (since i have no car and no food in the house) my thoughts wandered and then stayed on a certain, shameful subject. My thoughts stayed there for so long that I bcame mortified and almost...bored.
It is no surprise to anyone that I do not like being alive. That I hate life. That I find no reason, no purpose and no real happiness. I feel that while I have too much sympathy, even empathy for others, it is indeed a rare and impossible trait in others. When I have been at my worst and deepest desperation, no one, no one is there and no one to make me care. I have lived through some terrible things...and not to bring back the past, but losing Max for that time was like suffering the death of my child. The pain was excrutiating. I remember lying on the floor at nights, unable to sleep, holding my sotmach and crying with abandon because the pain was so intense and overpowering. I remember waking up with such terrible stabs of anxiety that I could not get out of bed for hours, if at all. I remember wanting to die so badly and knowing that I could not take away a mother from my children. I suffered everyday and when I would talk to people about it...they were so distant and for them the reaction was this: you have so many. Let this child go. How much that hurt. How many tears I spilt. How I learnt that life is cruel and unfeeling. Everyone. Even those who alledgedly love me the most.
I still want to die. I still do not want to be here. I know that i am a failure. That although I am only 38, my skin is looser, my face is sadder and with wrinkles and other skin defects, I have no accomplishments to be proud of, I have nothing more to offer. I know that once men fell in love with me competely and wholly and now I could win a man only by being my nice, fake self full of life (that I hate) and fun and display my sweet and explosive happiness. If I were a man, how worthless would I be? I have a relatively low paying job and while I have an education....it is worthless (in so many peoples lives. It has enriched my life significantly but made me no money to speak of). I am a failure as a mother. My kids are fantastic but Holden should be reading by now. Mia should be better in school. Eric should be fostered and led into a better direction. It's not enough what I do. It's never enough.
I know this is why I stay with Adam. He doesn't love me. He never will. But no one does. Kurt took me home yesterday and acted like a dick because I did not want to have sex with him. Asshole. I hate that. I hate people with sex problems and I won't deal with it. Not again.
Adam doesn't have that problem.
I am sad. I hate my body. I hate myself. I hate and hate. And am ready to leave this place.
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