Sunday, June 05, 2005

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR
RRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...


That doesn't make me feel much better, but it's the best scream I can manage in a house full of parents.

I want to call him, but I don't know what I'd say, I just want to hear his voice, but I doubt he wants to hear mine. I want to tell him that everything will be ok, but I doubt he'd believe me, and most of all I want to tell him I love him, but I really doubt he'd believe that.
I felt better briefly an hour or so ago. When I'd managed to stop shaking enough. But physical pain doesn't stop the heartache forever, it just washes away the surface hurt for a bit, and then you're left with the scars and the agony floods back.
I don't know why I do it, it's not a solution, it's not even a remedy, just a fucking tiny respite from the aching in my soul, and in the end it only makes me feel worse. I keep making promises, to myself, to Pete that I won't keep doing it. Promises I can't seem to keep.
I need to calm down, to work out what happens next, but my head is just dizzy with all these wicked emotions.
I need to find a way out of this need for systematic destruction...I shredded a book of poems before...just sat and tore it into tiny little pieces (it wasn't a book book, just an excercise book of my own stuff, I'm not quite that crazy yet) and I want to break things...anything I can get my hands on.
This is helping, typing and writing always calms me, but I can feel the emotion still there, just under the surface, waiting to boil over and crack the fragile wall thats holding it back.
Fuck I'm too poetic for my own good, those words are a load of tripe that just masks the real feelings inside. Thats all words are, masks and disguises for the feelings we don't know how to describe or relate to.
And I've reverted to talking shit so I'll go.
I will try to behave myself. Rest assured I'm not going to do anything really stupid, so there's no need to worry on that score, there is too much to live for, too much that might be salvagable from the wreckage caused by our crashing. There is always hope, and when that's gone, there is always new life.

1 Comments:

At 10:46 pm, Blogger Chris said...

The only comfort is that after feeling the worst feeling in the world, things can only get gradually better. When I left Nick, it was like my world caved in. I felt so hollow and destroyed, and I felt guilt because it was my choice. That made me feel like I didn't deserve any sympathy. The worst feeling is the uncertainty though, the wondering if you made the right choice. That's exactly how I felt. But it worked out for me, and I hope it does for you too. It made me stronger. It also ended up with me going out with someone who is mentally very stable, so he can take me saying 'I'm really sorry honey but I feel like I f&*ing hate you today' without crumbling. Just hang in there, and try to find other wayd to feel release without hurting yourself- go for lots of long walks and find quiet places to scream at the sky.... Thinking of you x

 

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