Day 63, 64
Why have I gone back to this stupidly broken up state?
Partly because I've had the show to busy myself with and block everything out of my head. Partly because I was too blind with anger to let tears phase me. Partly because I haven't been at home to let myself start thinking.
Hello being back to kneeling on the carpet and sobbing away to some ridiculous song, hello thinking of it all, finding that 2 mile run did not calm me down and hitting the walls until my knuckles are scarlet, hello hearing the therapists phone ring and ring and cursing when she doesn't answer, hello scribbling down infuriating verses and tearing the page with my pen. I'm dragging my feet back to the rocks.
My friend asked me about it on Saturday night. And suddenly it all came out in one big rush of angry, guilty words. She thought I should tell the truth. Should I? Will it change anything? Will I even be believed? Yes, I'll still be upset and angry, but surely if anything, I would have gained a "clear conscience." No one has a clear conscience. Not completely. Never.
I keep having terrifying, hurtful nightmares. Unable to escape it all during the day, thanks to the brilliant oxymoron which is the human brain, my subconscious creeps in at night with sickening images. I've burnt, and shouted, and cried, and seen you all in my dreams, tangled up and crawling pictures that I don't want to see. For three mornings now, I've woken up in tears at 6am. Its out of my control and I don't want to sleep.
I've started living in the past every time I am alone, and I have realised how much I loathe being alone. Always, making sure I'm out, about, with some one - a huge, loud group of us or just two friends at my side. Everyone is being so amazing at the moment that it isn't hard, parties, days out, peoples bedrooms with pizza and a film. But every now and then, and I couldn't describe it with any more clarity, that haunting feeling creeps over me. And again, siiiigh, I find myself close to tears.
You think you know some one, but then of course, you don't. And its so unfair to let it happen to someone else.
He's trying. He really is. Calls and texts and emails. Am I being too cold? I can't help it, I could easily welcome him back with open arms and say how much I've missed him. But then he'd turn around and spin another web of lies without me knowing.
Today I went iceskating with all the drama lot. It was hilarious and surprisingly quite calming. After gripping on to the sides for dear life for about half an hour, I got the hang of it and glided around feeling a little weightless, watching the kids, and married couples, and normal, well-stitched families. With aching ankles we hobbled to Aruba for a drink and some snacks. Then we went to see a friend sing in his metal band at a dingy dark pub and dance around like idiots. After that we went to KFC for lunch. Then I had some people back at mine, to talk for hours about absolutely everything but me.
Every second your ghost is with me, living the present in the past. How twisted it all is. The hurt is always there, somewhere in the back of my head, deafening me with the want to chuck it all and cry into my palms. This is what you've done. Don't do the usual and run away from responsibility. I'd adore to be you, in your wrapped up little world, having pushed away everything which made you bad, everything which made you remember what you've done to yourself, everything which you can't bear to admit to her.
I wish I could switch the lights of for a while. I wish I could trust anyone.
No comments:
Post a Comment