Every feeling and memory is tainted by the pain. Some more than others, of course.
It all aches and throbs inside, like that accidental injury that was way worse than you initially thought.
I’m getting lost in images, but what I really want to say is, I’m really, really not ok.
And I wish I could be real about it here. I wish upon wish I could just tell you all - those of you who care, even those of you who don’t - what has actually happened…
But I can’t bring myself to do it. Because of what it would mean. Because of the detail that would have to go into explaining it fully. Because of the awkward conversations that would come about. Because of the feelings of other people distantly involved in this. Because I don’t want to say it just to receive pity.
But suffice to say, I have no idea what my future holds. I have no idea how i’m going to bounce back from this, I have no idea how I am to move forward, or move on.
At least for once, I have an idea of where I’d like my future to go.
But that doesn’t take away the pain. It makes it bearable, since I wouldn’t have considered these dreams without the upheaval of my life… but it still smarts and stings, burns and hurts. It still takes the pills to let me sleep at night. It still fills me with burning questions and wishes and regrets, every time my mind is idle. It still… has ruined everything that I thought might be eventually ok.
Because my trust was incredibly fragile, and regardless you shattered it into a million pieces without so much as batting an eyelid. And now I don’t know what is real and what is not, when it comes to you.