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i am to blame for the lameness that you claim is us.
fuck you.
eighteen applications, twelve callbacks, no interviews and still no job. my fault?
fuck you.
don't make any use of myself, i blow money like it grows in the ground, i bitch CONSTANTLY and i'm never satisfied?
fuck you.
i discover that there's not something right with me, that my self-hatred is not my fault and yet you think nothing's wrong?
fuck you.
i fuck off and procrastinate because i want my life to be a giant clusterfuck. yep, you're right.
fuck you.
i hate women because they're better than me. because i envy them. there's nothing to envy?
fuck you.
stop worrying, nothing's wrong, everything is fine, i'm not going to leave you, i want to fuck other women but i'm not, i'm unhappy a lot of the time, all you do is bitch.
fuck you.
i am beautiful and smart and important and special and talented and graceful and kind and generous and helpful and loving and sacrificing everything.
fuck you.
you're not around, you're busy doing whatever it is you're doing. and you're right. it is like going to the dentist.
fuck me.
oh, i know. no matter what you do or say i'm going to feel this way, regardless. and you're right. but i told you that from the beginning. you said you could deal with it.
and it's not true. when you're hateful i'm the nice one, and the other way around. maybe we just need to catch each other on a good day all around.
the walls are back up, the gloves are on, all that other metaphorical bullshit i'd say to hide the fact that things aren't peachy keen.
i'd try to tell you, but you're about as easy to talk to as i am.
i'm scared
i'm worried
i'm tired
i'm sick
i'm lonely
i'm hurt
so are you.
bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch, right?
i need you. god damn you, i fucking need you and you know it, and it hangs over my head like a scythe.
i'm regaining strength. not just for you, but you're going to benefit, too.
look --- all i'm going to say is be careful what you wish for.
because soon the whining will stop.
we can do this. just let it go, okay? that's all. i know that, now.
what can i say? there is nothing left for me to use to defend myself. i am so tired of fighting, but i don't know how to stop. god i wish i could stop. i wish that he'd listen to me when i say what i say but it seems like he doesn't and all i get is "okay" and then i'm supposed to jump through hoops when he lays upon me the most delicate of compliments. so what? so fucking what?
we're letting this destroy itself, and i don't know how to stop it. i won't give up. i refuse to lose this so easily.
more to come. h
