#LIKE THE DEADLINE IS IN 2 WEEKS IM GOING TO KILL SOMEONE FOR REAL.

[cliveguy]

this uni is fucking me around so bad im about to become the joker

[yamlog]

today i allowed myself to take a good hard look at the rows of photos i have buried at the bottom of my feed and i made sure to focus my eyes, not let them blur and glaze over his face. i really looked at him. i looked at the way the light hit the cheekbones i really loved, i looked at the curve of his eyelids, i looked at the hint of ribcage beneath his tshirt. i think i had to, because seeing how mj is avoiding-but-not-avoiding her ex is making me understand that avoiding is not the way to go. her heartbreak is fresh, not even a month, but in many ways i am still behaving like her. i don’t listen to good advice and i avoid and avoid the source of pain. i think that by locking up and burying photos of him that i took when i was in love, i can grow out of it. but of course i am wrong, again, as usual, because even now when i stare at his face in the photos, knowing full well that i can never see this again in real life (he might as well be dead and cremated) i feel an ache. a real ache, not a metaphorical one. my chest literally twinges inside as if something’s twisting. and it gets hard to breathe. meanwhile all i can think about is how much i like what i am seeing and how sad it makes me to never reach it again. what is wrong with me though like seriously is this an imprint? did i grow some kind of dysfunctional neural pathway in the short time i was with him? it’s like programming i cannot change, what the fuck. at this rate, i wish i could turn blind so i will never have to see his face again or feel tempted to look at photos. but that’s silly, bc i need my eyes to earn a living. so i guess the next best thing would be to wish he really was dead so i can cry at his urn at the crematorium every week until i have properly mourned and can move on. i feel like a zombie. or maybe he is the zombie, neither here in my present reality nor there in a past that can be said to no longer exist. or maybe my heart is the zombie. or maybe my feelings for him is the zombie. aiya this is a difficult metaphor to wrap my head around. bottomline is, i’m pretty sure i still love him. i’d go back to him in a heartbeat. but he’s gone. dead, figuratively. i dont think i am living in the past because i am really making an effort to be here in the present and be here for all my friends who need me sometimes. but i have brought my feelings with me. they’re not “past feelings” they are PRESENT FEELINGS. right here and right now i still have living feelings. for a dead person. so what does that make me? stupid?? probably. maybe i should enforce a rule whereby i make myself stare at photos of him until the pain subsides. like cutting yourself until the nerves in your skin are so damaged and scarred over you no longer feel pain. i don’t know how long i can distract myself by going along with everyone else’s pace and physically doing the things to “move on” when in reality thinking about him still makes my nose sting and my eyes water. but he doesnt exist!!!!!! he cannot. so much time had elapsed it is so unlikely he has remained the same. employment, politics, interactions with others, maybe even new lovers must have reshaped him somehow. the person i love is probably not there anymore, or he’s been melted down and recast into a different form that i will not recognise.

i wish he wanted to meet me, and cared to see what kind of person i have become after all this. i miss him every single day. i still think about him every single night. sometimes i catch myself about to say his name and i have to close my throat before i utter and commit the atrocious act. i don’t dare find his socials because i’m terrified of what i might see. im afraid i’ll go to the cinema with mj next week, 2 heartbroken girls, and run into him holding hands with a woman i don’t recognise. i dont know how i’ll handle that. i may fling myself over the bannister of the spiral staircase and end my miserable existence on the spot. maybe i’ll take out a knife and slit my wrists on the spot so i can bleed to death with my eyes fixed on him and leave earth looking at the person i love most. on some level i do hope he has found happiness and is capable of making someone happy in a sustainable way that doesn’t put a strain on his career too much, but a big part of me still wishes i could be that person. it’s so pathetic to admit that i still wish and wish and wish i could be the recipient of his love. isn’t it so stupid to pine for treatment i won’t receive? why cant i be happy with someone else giving me double? a serious question. why does it have to be him? if only i could email god to ask.

if i do reach my deadline without being able to find happiness elsewhere and i do fling myself off some building or another, i dont think i’d like to be a ghost haunting and cursing him for all eternity anymore. i much rather there be no afterlife. no women living in banana trees. no vengeance, no reincarnation, nothing. i just want to stop existing and stop being conscious or anything. i want to disintegrate and take all my hurt and futile desire with me. no more boundaries no more self no more singularity. it would be so blissful to just dissolve and leave the fabric of existence and no longer think of him because there will no longer be a “him” because there will no longer be a “me” who “thinks.”

i wonder if he thinks of me still. i wonder what he thinks of, of him in relation to me, of me in relation to him, of me like this, of the suffering he MUST know he has caused. i dont think ive been the same person since october. it’s not like a simple apology can patch up a hole. i forgive, but the wound doesnt disappear with forgiveness. i forgive the stake in the heart because at my core i love love love love him, but the stake is still lodged in there. and i can’t die. not yet, at least. i dont think he knows the extent of the damage done. i still have nightmares every single night. i can’t remember the last time i had a good dream. i consider myself lucky when i wake up and immediately forget 95% of my bad dreams. i am so busy everyday but when im asleep i can’t manifest happiness. it’s all violence, and hatred, and meeting spectres from my past, and decay and weeping and pain. sometimes i feel the pain in my body itself. phantom and ungrounded but pain demands to be felt. i can’t just Wish it away.

i no longer believe in the possibility of miracles. but i still believe in a divine plan. if i am still unable to kill my love for him, there must be a reason. a good reason. maybe my ache makes me the friend my friends need when they get dumped. maybe i will be led by my pain to decide to join some event or cause, even if as a means of distracting myself, and end up meeting someone who really needs my support and friendship. maybe i can contribute to society in a way that i wouldnt be able to if i were perfectly happy. i like to believe that there is a purpose behind everything, even failure. and im not naive enough to think that the reason god has allowed to me suffer is because he will bring deliverance and turn a stone-cold heart back towards me. life isn’t a storybook. he won’t come back, and he won’t love me again. it’s fine. it’s fine if my continued misery could serve a greater purpose SOMEHOW. let me save one person. let me have the wells of empathy needed to say the right thing at the right time and improve someone else’s life. i cannot live like this with just myself and no contribution to the nett happiness of the world.

i did a tarot card reading for SH today, she visited my cats and we had lunch and talked about books. despite what happened at the start of the year ive found it in my heart to forgive and reconcile and take the first step in repairing our friendship. ive readjusted my expectations so i wont feel betrayed or letdown again in the future. and i recognise that she needs me more than i need her, which is a good enough reason to stay. pride is stupid. i decided years ago that i will not let pride get in the way. even if he thought i was pathetic. i dont care. love IS pathetic. my only regret was running away from him that day because i didnt want him to see me cry again. not because of pride but because i didn’t want to burden him even more. he would have been late for dance if i had allowed myself to stand there and cry. but maybe i should have. so now i will just put myself out there and move past friendship-level hurts. the reading was eerily accurate, even down to her sun sign. and extremely extremely apt for her because she’s starting uni soon and everything on the cards aligned. she jokingly said i was a witch. i only wish i was a real one so i can do Something, Anything.