*sigh

October 8, 2017

Do you mind saying goodbye?

After nine years of being depressed, I still feel like no one really understands me. I think somewhere after the first two years, I started to think no one ever would. So I would distance myself. And then, people understood me even less. They decided I was shy, and that was that. You know, it’s okay to be quiet and shy, but only if you’re okay with it. I wasn’t. But I played that role because it was easier than wanting to yell at the world for not trying harder to understand me. It’s easier than people treating you like you’re some sort of weak, crazy human being whom they think is oversensitive and can’t be trusted to do something correctly. It’s easier to convince yourself that you aren’t as creative and original as you really are, because they wouldn’t have believed you anyway.

It’s like I’m writing a book and it’s a book I deeply love but I’m reading it slowly now so the words are far apart and the spaces between the words are infinite. I can still feel you and the words but it’s in this endless space between the words that I’m finding myself now. It’s a place that’s not of the physical world, it’s where everything else is that i did not know existed. I love you so much but this is where I am now and I need you to let me go. As much as I want to, I cant live your book anymore.

I hope you fall in love with someone that gives you everything that you need. I hope that she comes unexpectedly and takes you by surprise. I hope it will kill you on the inside when you hurt her and you will fight for her happiness. I hope that you will fall in love with every seemingly insignificant detail of her and that every move she makes will be golden within your eyes. I hope you make her a better person and that you wake up every morning with her on your mind. Most of all, I hope you love her with the most selfless, true, genuine, giving and undivided love because only then, you’ll realize the way I loved you.

Everything crashes in my head. I feel too much or not enough.

What if I forgave myself? I thought. What if I forgave even though I'd done something I shouldn't have? What If I was a liar and a cheat and there was no excuse for what I'd done other than because it was what I wanted and needed to do? What if I was sorry, but if I could go back in time I wouldn't do anything differently than I had done? What if I'd actually wanted to fuck everyone of those men? What if heroin taught me something? What if yes was the right answer instead of no? What if what made me do all those things everyone thought I shouldn't have done was what also had got me here? What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was?