Val! (loupguru) wrote,

not a good update... meaning... sad/scary/negative.

You want to stay here with me, live this life with me but...
what's in it for you
(what's in it for you?)

I don't think it is selfish of you, I don't think you are using me, I don't see what you have to gain. I know you say I have no self-esteem, or no self-worth, but what is in it for you - to be with someone like that?  And you said I pass out 9 nights out of 10... and you ask me so often to cuddle with you - you ask me in the mornings, maybe some weekends, will I cuddle with you tonight? I know it means - don't go away, don't get wasted, don't pass out. You want me to be here, be present, be able to hold you when we go to bed at night... not you having to put me to bed, again.  How many nights have you cried and I haven't known?  Or how many nights have you just been utterly exhausted and put out, and gotten so used to it that, last night, since I was 'here' - since I was 'present' - that you cried? That you realized what you didn't have? What I haven't been giving you? That I haven't been here for you, with you, that you've come to accept living with a reanimated corpse?

Even know my skin is rallying against me. It doesn't want this reality. Let's say I let a week go by - a month. Let's say I start to forget how easy it is to take a pill... how that pill always turns into more pills... how at some point I stop, I burble to the surface, I look around and see the world, my eyes barely above the water... I see the dishes in the sink... I did them all last Tuesday, and the laundry too, and the shopping... but that was me on auto-pilot... that was me feeling strong because I could take my anxiety pills and be at the laundromat before 9AM and was out doing things while you were at work... That I was going to get so much done... that when you got home, somehow I didn't think you appreciated any of it... you didn't seem proud or happy to me, not at all. You said you were and I just didn't see it - but why wouldn't I have seen it?

But you're right... I am destroying myself.  I wake up in some way, here where my skin hurts and reality has me frozen to the chair... here where I have to keep remembering to breathe, here where I have to will myself in ways far beyond lethargy to get up, get in the shower, get dressed, get out of the house... here where myself and the world are at discord... we are not connected, we are not at peace... here where I can see the past week, the past month, a blur, trying to get through that job I was temping at, trying to get through the days without it... feeling nothing because I was throwing away my feelings in pills to the point of no longer feeling comfort, no longer feeling much but tired at the end of the day, of not caring about doing things... of drowning the nights because I was on that same autopilot without right, wrong, or concern...

The past several days - on and off my pills... we have been talking about my feelings - about how i felt (apparently I said I hated? my life?) bored I meant to say, or impart... bored and that my life is not going anywhere.  I have the mornings with you - recently waking up from nights of more overindulgence... of eating and drinking more than you would think the human stomach could hold - without really having control over what I was doing... I had the mornings, waking up in your arms, having your kisses, feeling your whole body against me... I have the mornings of awkwardly trying to make you coffee, breakfast, whathaveyou...

This morning I had the night before... holding you as a couple tears rolled down your face, being surprised when I started choking out sobs as well... feeling the knowledge I am not destroying myself, but a part of you as well. I hadn't realized that when I was just destroying me, when you were a vessel to help me in that destruction... no matter how much we say we are going to eat better, be healthier, get in shape, live right...

the fall passed without much of a fall... with a car hitting Sara and I and me losing myself.... and now winter is here... and has been... And winter may be gone soon, though it seems to be holding on fairly well here in the beginning of February...

Last week, I was easier... Life, me, to be.  Now I am on the 2nd day of my period, the 2nd day without a pill (only the 2nd mind you), the second day trying to figure out which reality is real, which and how much I can bear... Reading old poetry I've had in my head for the past several days... I get burning and freezing in life confused with rotting and being frozen - in the poems I've written.  I always thought it was quite funny, to say 'perhaps we'll be frozen if it's temperate weather' - and reading even a couple of those poems again, with my flesh as exposed as it is now - worries me...
Life hurt me, hurts me, has hurt me for so long...

You are good. I can see that, I can see that you are good.  Sometimes I feel like it's a lie, like when I watch the videos after nights... or let's say not even 'sometimes' but just the other day - wednesday - the wednesday after tuesday where i was motivated, it was my first 'blizzard' i remember now, when i was shopping I got champagne and sausage and thought I deserved it, it was afterall my first blizzard... excuse of a loser. the video i vaguely remember you telling me to get on your back so we could go look at the snow... on the balcony - watching it the next day - my words all slurred and childish... yours comforting and soft but calculated in a sort of way... that I don't really feel I know what is real or if I know the real you...

Laying in bed with you last night, I was with you but I wasn't... For one thing this awful gripping tension and reality pulls me away because as you note - in your own words which are themselves a conundrum - that I think too much, that I can't stop thinking,... and isn't that the problem, in many ways, at any rate?  I felt like you were there, and we were both saying we loved each other many times... but part of you must know the forever isn't forever... and while we may want that to mean forever until nature by death pulls us apart, if that has to be the way it is when one dies... last night I felt like part of you might be thinking it would come much sooner... even though you said we've just reached the one year mark of me thinking we wouldn't be together for a year... and soon you will tell me again that we will be together in a year, and maybe it will take five years for me to believe it ... and maybe it will take five years to break me of these horrible habits,.. but you will be there with me.

What's in it for you?
Another year of this cycle of stopping cold turkey, starting again, getting buried, stopping, scratching at the world like a cat - rabid and strange?  Waking up every few months to be shocked and afraid?

Shackled by the vices I have, shackled by my own fears, shackled by my own loves?

The sun is coming through an accidental slit in the vertical blinds.  I said I would shower by 11...

At these times I always think of Millay's biography... and the wine and morphine... or Sylvia Plath and the oven... though I wouldn't do that I don't think... I mean suicide.. at times like this I am afraid again of the pills that make things seem more doable... like that,... like I could have moments like this where I realize I am destroying the people who love me... and then I could take a pill or two, be out of it enough to slit my wrist a bit too deep and bleed out.

I've been destroying my mother for some years.

What good is writing anyway?
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