Love. that spells love.
Life is so freaking fucking fudging strange. This is the most legitimate truth I have ever known. You're happily abiding your life, being unapologetic about who you are, and then BAM. The rug is pulled out from under you.
And this happens on varying levels of difficulty. Sometimes, a new job. Sometimes, it's losing someone.
This time, though, THIS TIME it's unexpectedly gaining someone in a romantic sort of way and for fucks sake i am losing my FUCKING MIND.
Dear Society,
Fuck you. Fuck you for all the different modes of communication that you have so selflessly invented so young people could have infinity different ways to experience anxiety and self-doubt when NO ONE RESPONDS TO THEM. Even if the lack of response occurs because of a perfectly non-offensive reason, the time it takes to make this discovery is excruciating. Because of you, inventors of the world, I am losing myself in cyber fucking space. Radio goddamed telephone waves are eating me alive. Between where i sit, satellites, and where he sits added to the time it takes for the clock to get from my inquiry to his belated response is literally being subtracted from my overall lifetime.
I am fast approaching my demise because some fucktard confessed he "loves" me and now he has some sort of stupid power over the way I FEEL.
WHY, GOD, WHY!?
Do you KNOW how much I talked to MYSELF TODAY!? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I SAID "NO ONE LOVES ME"!? DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING INSANE I SOUND!?!?
So, again, thank you for your efforts at progressing technology and brining the entire fucking human population together. Happy goddamed holidays.
Sincerely,
Juliana
If I could, I would. Because I HATE losing myself to someone else. I hate finding myself fucking scared out of my mind that what I do will reduce the amount of whatever it is he feels for me. And I AM MORTIFIED TO REALIZE THAT THIS FACT HAS ANY CONTROL WHAT SO FUCKING EVER ON ME. Why!?
I was so happy just being his friend. so confident. so free. so myself.
and now? NOW!? honey, now I'm in some seriously self-depreciating mind fuck. I don't know who I am and i feel like a caged fucking animal.
and yet. I encourage the growth of these feels by diving dumbly headfirst into the throes of whatever the hell kind of romance i have come into contact with.
what.
is.
wrong.
with.
me?
So. If I don't ever hear from him again tonight, you can find me under my bed, wrists metaphorically slit with my own shame of being disappointed and hurt.
Over. And. Out.
