“You know, I used to think that you were the best thing that ever happened to me, but now I think that you might maybe be the worst thing and I’m sorry that I ever met you.”
– Silver Linings Playbook
I imagine on what would have been our 6 year Anniversary today, if he actually ever thought about me, which I’m certain he doesn’t, G-unit would be thinking something similar to the words of that quote.
R.I.P. the only relationship I ever actually believed would make it.
No matter how many dates I go on — or how much I interact with any of the 300-3,500 guys on EVERY given day doing WHATEVER they CAN to be with me — it unfortunately doesn’t keep G-Unit away.
I feel like fucking Bella in “New Moon” when she aches for Edward and looks thinner than ever and starts doing destructive shit in order to get him out of her mind and/or bring him back.
I’m also really sick of people telling me that I can’t think in “what if’s?” and “maybes.” YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE! AND YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I NEED. SO STOP.
I’m giving myself the gift of dreaming about saving my relationship if I only had any idea what was going on with my body, my mind, and every other fucking part of my fucking daily life three or four years ago.
You don’t know what it’s like.
Maybe I would have remembered things better.
Maybe my inability to “get going” would have been understood if not forgiven.
Maybe my need to rest or sleep wouldn’t have solely been blamed on my depression.
Maybe I’d have been able to get a healthy job.
What if I hadn’t needed to self medicate?
What if knowing I had Fibromyalgia changed things that were previously misunderstood AND so frustrating that there was no coming back from them after awhile?
What if I had been diagnosed sooner than just about a year ago, after it was too late, and had been treated correctly years earlier than I was?
What if I hadn’t taken his support through everything for granted?
What if he hadn’t broken up with me/left me one day before our 5th Anniversary. (Flowers ARE expensive after all when your girlfriend is your best florist.)
I’m just going to repeat something real quick: I’m really sick of people telling me that I can’t think in “what if’s?” and “maybes.” YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE! AND YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I NEED. SO STOP.
No matter what, I love and miss you Gar Bear, and I
hope know you’re killin’ it — handling your bars♥️
On a completely different note…every member of my family has now expressed that they rather I were gone.
And an unwanted burden.
I mean Hillary, (that’s my sister by birth), flat out told me I am dead to her.
Hard to come back from that.
So, in that vein, it’s good Summer’s ending.
I guess I’m embarrassing because I tell the truth. The truth here. The truth in my writing. And the truth in the book I’m working on, where I play the villain.
Sorry I’m such a disappointment, Mom.
But I’m not embarassed by my mental illness and they shouldn’t be embarrassed by me either.
I’m a person.
I’m hurting, physically, every second of every day. And I’m hurting mentally, more than I can flat out say.
I hope everyone reading this has a significant other, family, family member, or anyone else, who loves them, and wants to be around them.
This endless list of John Does I’m dating is empty and meaningless.
But maybe that won’t be forever.