Broken Bella Donna

{May 8, 2013}   All the things you’ll never know.

One day I’ll feel healed enough to blog about something else. But not today.

I am going to make a list of all the things you’ll never know… either because you simply don’t understand, because I’ll never feel comfortable telling you, because you don’t need to know, because it’d make things more awkward or simply – and this is the front runner at present – because it seems like you’re never going to bother to take the time to talk to me again.

It’s only been a week since we last spoke, and just over a fortnight since we last spoke properly, and that all seems dramatic, but that’s how it feels to me right now.

So… all the things you’ll never know…

How much you’ve changed my life. I’ve tried to explain but it’s been in vain.

How angry I am with you, for making this decision with no regard to my feelings, simply what is good for you.

How much I regret seeing you that night, because it ruined everything.

That I believe you’re almost entirely to blame for this, as master of your own decisions and behaviour, and how you ignored my concerns that this could blow out and get messy – turns out I was right.

That I love you, in spite of all this. But not necessarily ‘in love’.

How hard it has been for me to come to that realisation, as someone who hasn’t ‘loved’ before, and then have it so drastically torn from me.

That I know you’re lying when you say you don’t get online, it’s your phone. It isn’t your phone.

That I know you’re lying when you say you’re not avoiding me.

That it upsets me to think that you can drop back to this occasional friendship with such a cavalier attitude, like I meant nothing anyway so it’s easy for you.

That I know you’re lying about that too. And is pisses me off no end that you can’t be fucking honest with me.

That I regret telling you all my secrets, because at the end of the day, they meant nothing.

That I will never… ever… make that mistake again.

That I mourn my last chance at happiness – and my first – and now I have to admit to myself that I have nothing, and will continue to have nothing for the rest of my life.

That things seem so empty for me at the moment, I can’t enjoy things that I usually enjoy, I can’t get passionate about things, I just… don’t care enough.

That I haven’t been given a chance to say what I want to say, instead I have to let you do and say what you want, and shut up about it, because you make me feel like I’m being overly dramatic and emo if I say anything.

That you can just walk away from our friendship and that’s that – you have others in your life you can connect with, you don’t have to explain the sudden loss to anyone. Whereas I’m stuck explaining to people why I’m suddenly not communicating with you, why you’re never here, why we don’t talk online, why I suddenly don’t talk about you anymore. I’m stuck with no one to talk things out with and no one to accept me, and I’m once again disappearing into my black hole of despair.

That I’ve spent the last ten days weighing up different ways to kill myself, and which one would work best, be successful, hurt the least, whatever. So hey. There you go – turns out I’m not the person you thought I was. But that makes us even, cause you’re not the person I thought you were either.

That I’ve wondered, if I did go ahead and top myself (I have no plans to, non existent reader), would you be the one to come out and deal with it? How would you feel? Would you know that you were the tipping point that caused me to go over the edge?

That I hate walking into my own backyard of a night. I hate the stars, the night, the couch. I hate the cold, my blanket, the driveway. I hate my house, my music, my clothes. I hate my phone, my facebook account, myself. I hate everything that makes me think of you and right now, everything makes me think of you.

I feel like shutting my facebook down. I feel like hurling my phone against a wall. I feel like cutting off all my hair, going on a diet binge, just… going for a long walk and forgetting to come home. I want to change everything about myself just to get away from me. I want to book a one way ticket out of here, get tattoos, start a war against myself. I want to tell everyone who pisses me off to go fuck themselves, I want to rage against everything that rages against me instead of sitting here, meek and quiet, doing what I’m told.

I want to BE someone else. I don’t want to be me, I’m so bloody over me at the moment.

If it’s so easy for you to walk away from me, to leave me alone, why can’t it be that easy for me? It’s alright for you. I’m fucking stuck with me.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

et cetera
%d bloggers like this: