March 3rd 2021
I don’t feel… right. I feel lost, like part of me got swept away in the torrential downpour we received last night with almost no warning whatsoever.
I don’t think I’ve smiled all month, let alone felt anything other than the releasing sensation when I tear open my own skin.
The sickening numb feeling finally goes away when I give in.
I have no tears left in me to shed over the situation, whatever it may be.
My heart knows what I need to do: kick him to the curb and never look back.
I have my own house. I don’t rely on him for my bills or help with my own property.
So why can’t I bring myself to end things?
Did I really invest all this time with someone just to throw it all away?
He always promises things will get better when I quit being so difficult to make happy.
I’m not the easiest to get along with. On some level, I’ve always known that.
Being friendly and sociable was easy, but that wasn’t the real me, the one who hid from those I cared about.
Even Michelle didn’t know how bad my head could truly get sometimes —how I desired for it not to be my skin I was cutting.
He deserved to hurt like he made me hurt, a physical representation of my emotional turmoil.
So why couldn’t I tell him that? Was I that pathetic that I couldn’t just text him and tell him it was over? That I was taking my body and heart back? I guess that answers my question since all those texts get deleted. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it would be easier to just end it all.