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1 month of up, 6 months of down, and still sinking.

12 December, 2007

We met and were together a month. We fell hard for each other. Too hard. I became too much of a barnacle on the hull of his ship and he needed to shake me off. So I became dependent and he became mean. Now he's still all I want, and if he'd just give me the opportunity I'd give him the world.

I don't know what I can do. I feel utterly unproductive, useless, lonely as ever and depressed. The problem is the condition my heart has been for over 6 months. Totally devastated. I've gone nearly off the deep end. I won't let myself lose it completely, but I'd love to go insane and find a way to see him. Drive by. Even seeing his car would be comforting. Even seeing his face red-hot and furious at me coming around would be something. I'd love to hear his voice even if it were shouting about what a cunt I am; and to feel him grab me, even if it's to throw me out the door. I want to set myself on fire at his front porch (What IS this?? I don't THINK like this!)

Since my heart crumbled into a bloody mess, there's been a vacancy behind my eyes; a hollow laugh; empty ambition and nothing cheers me up except for the fact that I have shelter and food. So I eat and I sleep. Even starving people have more mental substance. I just let go for a snake-I let go for a demon.

I am starving in the worst way: Mentally. It is a much slower and more painful decay--the death of the mind. I still must wake, sleep, eat, pay money, work, talk, shower, clean. But WHY do I bother; HOW do I get through each day when I cam completely decimated and have been bleeding for him alone, and fruitlessly, for half a year. We spent barely over a month together, and now I've spent half a year in mo urning.

What is a man that is not him? Jason? Ugh! No! Shamus? Hell no! Not at all! Richard? NO! The man I want for me is identical to Matt, except one key detail: I want the man to love me back. Ohh god, the life and conversation and experiences we could share if he'd just let me be a lover to him. I'd b e a real doll of a woman. I'd sacrifice ANY dream or opinion. I just want him. He is so smart, and funny, and interesting, and sexy, and well-read, and articulate, and GOD shouldn't allow for my suffering to be so extensive! What did I do wrong?! I only fell for him! I only began to love him! I love him! I love him! How does that destroy everything about me? Why did he go? He's killing me; he's my murderer, my only desire, my haunt, my death, my life, and I find myself ruined.

I am going to get a job in retail and next month I will work and be a college student. I will be distracted enough to forget (unlikely); or I will meet someone better (impossible); or I will break down sharp and hard after a few "good" weeks of diligent work and "normal" behavior (probable).

I would rather him strangle me or cut my throat than not speak to me, not see me, not want to be with me. Who would want to be with me when I'm crazy like this? I've never been so crazy! I feel drugged, dehydrated, full of pus and clotted blood and cold, clammy skin, stress on my blemished face; I could overdose on heroine if I was stupid, but I'm not. I'm smart-crazy: The worst kind. Heart tormented but no way out at all; nothing but analysis, and killing rationale.

Out of tears, I just snot like a toddler. I let it out on old receipts and wipe the excess on my sheets. How could he have possibly believed himself to be doing me a favor? He broke my heart! Now I know what that phrase really means, and I hate it, and now I'll always accuse others of misunderstanding its meaning. I feel like the only person ever born to experience the true death of having her heart broken by the only man she can devote herself to.

Doesn't matter that I'm smart, too; and pretty, and funny, -- He doesn't love me. It doesn't even appear he likes me! Fact is, I don't KNOW what he feels cause he's bolted up in his own prison. His behavior at the creek and the other few times I've seen him is so peculiar! And all I want is for his affection and company. HOW could he think he was setting me free when he did exactly the opposite? I don't want it to get to where I'm on my knees kissing his feet, but if it goes on, I'll haven o choice but to come out with it. He is murdering my mind, and soon I will just have to beg him to spare me. (Pride thus murdered twice as maliciously.)

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