The End of the Werld

Another moment of "who am I kidding." Again, it's not a question.

She had the talk with her mother. Now she knows the truth, or some of it. It wasn't easy. It changed her world forever. Nothing will be the same for her ever again. It's a great, terrible and beautiful image.

And where was I?

Nowhere.

And that's probably my problem, not hers... but...

Let's be real here. She doesn't need me. Cares for me deeply, yes, but she could live without me. She's tough as nails, solid as mountains, strong as the world. Me? I'm pathetic. Strong and weak. Flip flop. Never the same. Hopeless.

Maybe I give too much. I keep falling deeper and deeper into myself, tearing myself apart to search for just one pure part of me to give away. I will never fulfill my dreams. I will never reach my potential. I will tell myself to the end of time that pain is all I deserve, so I won't be disappointed when it's all I find. But what about what I want? Can I never be happy just for myself? Or must I forever give away emptiness... and ultimately take everything and receive nothing?

Somewhere out there there's a city without walls. Some day I hope to find it.

Whatever.

Maybe I was better off alone. I was cold, I was empty, but at least I was sure of myself.

And it's this exact attitude that killed my relationship stone dead last time.

Do you know it took her two whole months to tell me that she didn't love me any more? I could feel it the whole time, her slipping further and further away from me. It was agony. I kept asking her if the still loved me, begging her to tell me the truth. Every time she refused to answer. But I never gave up hope. I told myself that things would improve. I came out to my parents about being a multiple for her. I tried to lighten up - but it was hard, so hard, when I knew that my love didn't want me near her. At long last she told me she felt used and manipulated, that I wasn't listening to her, that I loved her only for myself, that I wasn't who I thought I was. It hurt. I don't think she ever really accepted that I was a multiple, or the things I saw. I asked her then to tell me honestly what she thought I really was. She refused to reply. She never did tell me the truth.

She broke my heart. Simple as that. She hurt me, and I have long since forgiven her; but I hurt her first, and I never forgave myself. I don't think I ever will.

I told myself I'd stop cutting. Everyone certainly thinks I have. But no one noticed the palms of my hands. I guess no one was looking. I guess no one will care if I do it again.

Some days it really sucks to be me, you know? I need to empty the dishwasher now.