The things I want to say are not known to me in thoughts I can yet understand.
I am angry and I see no easy solutions to my problems and it frustrates me.
The thoughts become clearer as I type.
Her insecurities are becoming difficult to bear. For some reason I feel a constant responsibility to confront and dismiss and reject her every self-deprecation. The reason I suppose is my love for her.
Lately I find my attempts at encouraging self-love and dismissing the constant self-comparisons and questioning all of her toxic reasoning to be falling on deaf ears.
I want it to end. I want her to accept herself. I think she believes both that she does not deserve love and that she should not be alive. I hope for the best for her. I love her so much, but she doesn’t believe me, I think.
And there is reason for that.
I am not a saint. I am not free of sin.
It went down like this: She and I had some sort of falling out, which I can’t recall the details of, and she left with a sorrowful goodbye which included a hug and a kiss. I was left with my roommates and a person who I had considered a friend mostly through association with other friends, but with whom I really didn’t hang out with. This person is a trans woman. I was feeling extremely awful at that moment, thinking I had just broken up with the first girl I’d ever fallen in love with. The details get hazier here, but it seems I then voiced my grievances to the occupants of the apartment. And after that, I must have said something that suggested I wanted to engage in intimate activities with one of the occupants. I don’t think either of my roommates responded to that, but the person mentioned earlier... obliged. They led me to my room, and at this point I was on what felt like autopilot. Which is stupid. And really awful-sounding. I wasn’t drunk, or high. I wasn’t seduced. I was heartbroken, and I was exposing myself to this person I barely knew on a personal level. Thankfully we didn’t progress past a certain point, and no sexual contact was made. I stopped things from continuing myself, when my anxiety finally came to a peak and I couldn’t bring myself to look at the other person. That was when all the shame and guilt kicked in, as well. I was left alone again, and I don’t remember anything that happened between then and the time I confessed what had happened a couple days later, to my girlfriend, who of course was still my girlfriend. The scene that then occurred was... traumatic. For both her and I. There was screaming and crying on both ends. I think I scared her a lot. Sometimes I think she’s still scared of me. We’re still together. Two years total, this thursday. I haven’t been forgiven, but somehow we’re still together. I love her, She loves me, I ruined everything, and yet we’re still here. I don’t know which of us is more scared to leave the other, to lose them. I don’t know if we’re keeping each other down or afloat anymore. Who’s dragging who. It gets really... difficult sometimes, to say the least. When she goes into little space, I can’t have an adult conversation. When she says that my preferences don’t align with her body, she believes she has evidence that I can’t refute. Now she’s talking about all that proana thinspo dieting crap, and it makes me extremely upset. Starving is not a diet. We are poor, you can’t make that an excuse to skip meals and attempt to fit some awfully unhealthy ideal into your life. I love her for who she is, but she doesn’t believe me. It sucks. I’m done writing about this.
