I've never written a diary before.
I'm not sure if this will be quite as cathartic as a penned journal, but I'm hoping for something more flexible than pen and paper in regard to when and where I can write. I just...need to get it out.
Things are difficult to explain, even just to myself. It's as if I'm constantly feeling everything at once and nothing at all. It's as if I'm overwhelmed at all times but I've thrown a blanket over my head to cope. It doesn't feel quite like what I've known dissociation to feel like, but maybe that's only because the trauma is very different this go around.
I can't stop thinking about it. It isn't as intrusive as it was; the thoughts aren't so...out of my control, anymore. It's mostly some variation of "how could you do this to me, to us? How could you ruin everything like this?" Which usually leads in to "did you really want her enough to ruin our lives?"
I've read from all sorts of sources that it isn't about me, in the end. But how could it not be? I'm the one he betrayed. Isn't it really all about me, even if it isn't my fault?
I hate how much I hate my life now. Everything that made me happy, everything I was proud of, feels tainted at best. I only feel better when I'm with him, and even then, it only lasts so long. My time with him sours with every rejection, because they come frequently, as they always have. I don't think I'll ever be enough.
Why am I never enough?
We've been together eight years. I was so excited to spend the rest of my life with him, the person who I thought he was. I miss that version of him so, so much.
I don't know if he ever really existed.
