I keep telling myself everything will be okay. I'm not very convincing.
But I know in the core of my being it will be.
It may take some time, a long time even, I can wait.
I've got to keep promising myself I can wait. That I will be strong enough to get through this.
That I won't give up. But right now, there's nothing I'd want more.
Maybe there really is something wrong with me.
Like I've always thought.
But now I have to pretend.
Pretend that I'm fine. Pretend that everything is okay.
Things are so far from fucking okay.
I'd like to say I've never felt this emotionally broken. But that would be a lie. I've been deeper than this.
I've been places in my mind I never want to be again. Places that make me sick just thinking of them.
That's why I listen to music so much.
I'm drowning out my thoughts.
My fears.
My insecurities.
In hopes maybe music will help me heal. Will make me okay. Is that even possible? For sounds to fix me? Do I need to see a specialist?
And he just walks around like I fucking owe him something.
I never fucking owed him anything.
Not my presence, not my energy, not my acknowledgment.
Not a fucking thing. And he's forcing me to spend time with him. That's the last thing I want to do. Why doesn't he get that through his thick fucking skull?
Maybe that's my problem. I hate authority that actually tells me things to do that I don't want too.
Why am I fucking gay? Because girls are amazing, it's not like I don't like them in addition to guys. He doesn't fucking get that. "But why? Why don't you like men?" He was blatantly ignoring what I was saying. I didn't say a whole lot but wtf? Who reads someone's fucking journal and expects them to be in their good graces? Expects them to want to talk about it? To forgive and forget the fucking betrayal?
Men aren't the fucking end all be all. Why did he have to make it about that?
