Feeling the need to pour my heart out again. Feeling very strange and lonely at the moment as I sit in my room with nobody else in the house. Family has flown off to their holiday until the new year and will be almost entirely out of contact.
Ashton isn’t responding to my texts, but I don’t know why I’m stressing because I feel I’m losing interest in him anyway. The problem is, I am not satisfied with him sexually or emotionally, but I’m afraid of what life is like without him because he is what stands between me and the realisation that I am alone. He is the only one I can be truly open with. I feel angry at myself for wishing that he could be somebody else. I really don’t know what to do, other than waiting and hoping that my feelings for him will grow again.Is it fair on him? If he wrote these words and I read them, would I not wish that we just rip the bandage off already? In my mind, a break-up is set in stone, so why do I prolong the inevitable?
I’m spending a lot of time in my room by myself. I hate that. i used to love it as a kid, but that was when I kept myself occupied with internet games on YouTube. Now it’s a lot harder to keep myself occupied. I’d like to spend the time reading or watching good films, and I do, but often I get this feeling like the walls are closing in on me and I need to get the fuck out. This cold, these streets, this city is keeping me trapped.
I don’t know what to make of all this. I’m having some anxiety, obvious by what I’ve just written, but I don’t know how to answer any of these questions yet. Lately I’ve been admiring spiritual people. I remember being spiritual. When I abandoned Islam and was just moving to this country. Everything was so exciting and the universe seemed huge, and open and mysterious and full of opportunities. I would go on non-stop rants about our vast universe, but now I’ve become so dull and pessimistic. The worst part is that I don’t want to feel so disillusioned but I can’t help it.
We all tell ourselves stories and I think that the stores we tell of ourselves shape us. I don’t like my current story, the one I have just told of a hopeful young man who moved to London with dreams and aspirations, only to have them crushed and fall into despair and disillusionment. I want to tell myself a different story, but It’s going to take time. I’m gonna keep trying. I will get back up.
