“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
- Neil Gaiman
- Neil Gaiman
I am trying so hard to forgive you, to understand you even, but I think a little part of me will always be upset and angry about what you did. The fact that you didn't tell me personally was low. I know that I am probably naive in thinking that friendship should be unconditional, especially friendship that occurs from a support network. I know that sometimes people have to get out before they drown, I understand that completely, I just don't understand why you kicked me in the teeth at my lowest point.
But most of all, I miss you terribly. I miss our bitching and rambling and just having you as a presence in my life.
I am desperate to walk through the door you have left open, but at the same time I feel more than a little hurt that you can't take me as I am.
Marilyn Monroe's quote that I use everything is coming into my head;
'I'm selfish, inpatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle, but if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as Hell don't deserve me at my best.'
But if my worst is too much for the people I love to handle, then something has to give. But how do you give up sickness? It's not a choice, atleast feeling terrible isn't a choice, I get that whether you self-harm or not, or puke or not, or eat or not, get drunk or not, they are all choices... But lying awake at night terrified to sleep because of the memories, feeling physical pain everytime you think about it, fear and doubt and shame and disgust and anger and betrayel and silence and lies and secrets. Where is the choice there?
I cannot escape what he did and I can't stop my head from going back to it, over and over and over again, and tearing me apart in the process.