So here we are

 It's been a month since the text message that ended my relationship. A week longer than that since I've seen him. I've talked to him on the phone once, trying to act normal. I'm not. I'm not okay. This is going to be a ramble.

When someone commits suicide, people always say, I wish I had known they were hurting so much. I wish they had reached out. I was here, why didn't they reach out? I can tell you why. I feel like everyone is sick of me, and that it wouldn't matter if I was gone. At all. You want to know? I'm suicidal. I'm under medical supervision. I'm in therapy. What am I supposed to do, message people I haven't spoken to in months and say hey, how are you, it's been a while, oh, by the way, I want everything to stop. I want the pain to stop. No, it's not about a boy. It's me. I'm defective and I hurt and I find comfort in nothing and there's a pandemic, so the things I have found comforting in the pat aren't possible. Here, let me dump unwelcome emotional labor on you. You who is probably also suffering. Reasons I haven't: I don't want anyone to have to find me, I fuck everything up, Mom would be crushed. I spend a lot of effort trying to keep Mom okay. My dog. My cats and the other dog would be fine, but Ziggy wouldn't. My brain keeps saying that no one cares.  

I've had my heart broken. Not like this. I knew Edward would break my heart from the day we met. I didn't think it would be as bad as it was. But I always knew. This time, this time I felt safe for the first time ever. I spent the first month safe in the knowledge that it was my anxiety. I went through something traumatic, I did't handle it well, and it drove him away. Now I know he just didn't love me like I love him. He loves me. Like a friend. So, I guess I was a friend with benefits that thought I was in a relationship that was different. Even though I've always been open about how I feel. Good enough to sleep with, not lovable. I understand. I can't make someone love me in that way. A year and a half is enough time to know. I guess it was okay, until there was someone else.

I feel like broken glass inside. Like no one will ever choose me. Be cause I'm so fucking broken that the best man I've ever known can't love  me. Not just him. It keeps happening. Edward cheated on me repeatedly, in a poly relationship. Promised me a lot of things. And chose someone else. This one didn't realize how anxious I made him until he started hanging out with someone who didn't. I always felt he was ashamed of me. I'm not a pretty girl. I'm never going to be a pretty girl. In a year and a half, I met one of his friends that I didn't already know. I'm still not using his name, because I still feel that he wasn't proud.  We have a lot of mutual friends that I think don't know we weere together. Still not a single picture of us, that isn't from far away or behind. I assumed it was because I'm not pretty. I guess he maybe never wanted those memories because I wasn't what I believed I was. This isn't like any heart break I've ever survived, this is like drowning. I feel like nothing will ever be okay. Because I'm just horrible and undeserving of love and I just hurt people and make them uncomfortable. Sometimes I wish I knew if I had made people happy, or made a difference. Or if anyone would even know if I was gone. This is a level of hurt that is indescribable and unfathomable and I've been battling depression for 30 years. I've never just wanted it to all stop so consistently, and for so long. I'm easy to forget. Easy to walk away from. easy to ignore. I'm alone. I drive people away and don't add anything positive to anyone's life. And I'm completely in love with someone who doesn't love me. Not like I love him. It's not a crush. I spent a year and a half building this love. Tending to it. For nothing. In vain. Like I've never loved anyone before. Like my friend said, one of the two who have borne the brunt of my anguish, because She understands, I feel like I love him with a completely different body part than I've ever loved anyone. More fully. More unreservedly. The best man I know. I understand, though. Why he doesn't love me. I'm unlovable. And broken. I wish I though time could change it. I wish I could see a light. But I will always be me, and I'm broken. And walking a tight rope. People who say they are suicidal are often put down, said that they are melodramatic, and seeking attention. I mean, I'd love to know that someone cares. I cry all the time. Ugly crying, snotty sobbing. I have no where to go for comfort, because I drive people away.

I know he's not perfect. I have moments of anger. There were things I was unsatisfied with, wanted more, but I though I had time. Every time I asked, we were fine. And it tore my heart out to ask. I'm not good at asking for things. Maybe he didn't realize he didn't love me like that, until her. I don't know. 

I have a job, doing something I love. Another reason I guess I'm hanging on fight now. It gives me something to do, to distract me for a few minutes at a time from the hurt. This doesn't even express how I feel very well. I'm getting a new tattoo. The appointment is a bit out, for reasons.

I don't know how to make the pain stop. I just want it to stop.

I walked out of his house on October 6, like normal. Ish. I knew something was wrong. But i didn't think I'd never see him again. I have no closure. I know what I need for it. I need him, oddly. Trust me, I really fucking understand that we won't be together romantically. Ever. But I want him to hold me while I cry. I need physical contact, so that the last time we touched wasn't the last time. But I make him uncomfortable. And I suppose he's moved on. But I got a message and couldn't look into his face. I'm really weird about people touching me. But never him. He made me feel safe. Ironic, I know. I'm shredded and shatttered and I don't even sparkle like broken glass. I'm raw and broken and screaming, and me? I want him. We were friends once. Apparently, that's all we've ever been, I just didn't know. I couldn't have done anything different, because I'm just, me. And that's not good enough at anything and for anybody. I'm so sorry if I ever hurt you, or caused you pain. If you are reading this, you either care about me or are reveling in my downfall.

I want to believe that I'm worthy of love. That I deserve it. I don't want platitudes. I don't want to hear that I'll find someone else. I'm still in love. I want him to be happy, because I love him. I know someday he'll have a beautiful life, I know he'll be the sun in someone else's sky, but why, why can;t it be mine? Yes, I had a Pearl Jam moment. I think he's probably already got a beautiful life, might even be a sun already in someone else's sky. 

I know I talked about him a lot, but trust me, I understand that it's not him, it's me.

And now you know. I think about suicide, about just not being, a lot. I know it's the season, but I don't think I've had any George Bailey effects on anyone's life. I wish I just, never was. 

I'm hanging on. Therapist says I should reach out. This is the best I can do.

I wasn't originally going to put a song here, but...

I grasp at lifes fading light
I need you tonight
I need to be heard
Your acts speak louder than words
Ignored by you all
I stumble and fall
I suddenly knew
My life meant nothing at all
In shreds
I stare down at the street
Yearning for sleep
That blissful escape
But when it comes it's always too late
The whore in my bed
The noise in my head
A hole in my pride
It's coming and there's nowhere to hide
It seems to me
To be so contradictory
It seems to me
You count your blessings while they're there
Ignored by you all
I stumble and fall
I suddenly knew
My life meant nothing at all
The whore in my bed
The noise in my head
A hole in my pride
It's coming and there's nowhere to hide
It seems to me
To be so contradictory
It seems to me
You count your blessings while they're there
You count your blessings while they're there
You count your blessings while they're there
It seems to me
To be so contradictory
It seems to me
You've become a part of the machinery
You've become a part of the machinery
Machinery
Machinery

In Shreds- The Chameleons