All the thousands of photos and videos I have from the last seven years make me realize the pain I was in the whole time. You can tell in some of them, but nobody knows it like I do. It really bothers me, the thought that for so much of my life, which is by no means over, was completely ruled by wanting this to be over. The last year of photos are especially hard to look through, even if most of them didn't survive me bricking my phone. I was really hoping things would be better this time. For a few moments, they were. But it ended up being some of the worst months of my life. I truly can not bear to do this any longer. I want to finally be able to live with myself. I can not spend another year unhappy. I swear to fucking God that I can't. I don't want any more photos that make my stomach turn, thinking "Jesus Christ, it felt like that." I never want to feel this way again.
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Our Little Dark Age is over. It's too early for me to declare that. I have a lot of trust to build back up with you. But right now, sleep-deprived and desperate, I want to say that for myself. I need to believe it. It just can't happen again.
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Nowadays, I spend time with the people I love like they all know and smell that I've shit myself. I even walk around with a lump in what has now become a diaper. I was the last to know about it, so I've been told. In the meantime, I assume I've broken any illusion of a sensible, good-natured, dependable, cool, emotionally intelligent person and revealed myself in a smoke show as the profoundly dumb, reckless asshole I was all along. I feel like I wear it like a prison jumpsuit whenever I go outside, doing time, trying to do right again. A part of me feels like I've more prone to fucking up than most around me. I'll break poetic distance and name names: B---- doesn't fuck up like I fuck up, nor does E---, D---- or A--, definitely not you. I'm still loved in all my weakness, and I know that's all that matters. But maybe I'm too weak to come to grips with the new possibility that I'm profoundly dumb.
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Fucking no desire to get back on the saddle. None at all. I feel too irresponsible for a relationship, like I wasn't mature enough to handle it the first time, so I've now lost that privilege, and I know nothing.
I've delusionally talked myself into considering to prepare for a totally celibate, single life. Obviously, this is unnecessary and completely cliche. I will surely love again. But I didn't realize I actually felt unlovable 'til I found it. I still very much do.
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Seeing their face makes me really nervous, and I feel bad about that. They don't deserve scorn. I'm not scornful. I'm sure I remind them of the same thing.
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I've actually hurt people. I've actually hurt you. I lost myself for a little bit.
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The worst of it was that, at one point, what would become the worst of it looked like the best that had yet to come.
