negative nods

I started this blog to vent about my mental health and express myself through my art. Stick around if you'd like. Hopefully my journey can help you on yours. All are welcome. No judgement, no questions, all love. 

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Dear diary,

I really don't want to be writing about this. It makes me sad. I don't want to write about this or talk about it and yet I have to because it is tearing my life apart.

It's been over a year since we broke up. And I still get sad and upset about him. When does it stop? When will I finally shake this attachment to him? This longing for him?

And yet I hate him. I hate him with every bone in my body. I hate him when the sun comes up and when it goes back down. I hate him when I am looking at the moon, wondering why I could not also have been born as something whose beauty people marvel at. I hate him at breakfast when I drink grape juice and look through my phone; I hate him when I get into my cold bed and feel the emptiness beside me.

And yet I love him. I love him as much as I did the day I met him. The way I love everyone in my life whom I've deemed worthy of it. And I must be imperfect because you fell so short of my expectations. I still care. I hope you the best. I just wish you'd stop hurting me. I wish you'd pause for a second and remember how much you cared about me once. At least I hope you felt that way once. I know I did. How could you do that to someone you once cared about?

Once I cared about me, too. Then I fell in love with you.

I lost myself in loving you too much you could not handle its passion. I lost myself in the suffering of teaching you to be a man as you clung to your youth and naivete. I lost myself in the person you could be, mindfully absent as the person you are slashed across my paper-thin skin. I let you past my walls and wreaked havoc from the inside out. There was no point to all this armor, I handed you my heart myself.