8 weeks. I’m not thinking about drinking, or smoking (although someone was smoking when I was walking back from the beach this morning and I took a good long inhale) but for some reason I have literally not stopped crying for like 48 hours. There’s some deep well of loneliness in me that I don’t even understand.
I don’t want anyone around in my sphere, but I want to know they care? Right now it feels like no one gives one iota of a fuck about my life. Which is ridiculous. I have my mom (1200 miles away) I have my friends (kind of? I’m not *really* all that welcome anymore considering the changed relationship dynamics). I have wonderful, supportive friends scattered in distant zip codes; but the guy I’ve spent most of the last year with is MIA.
This is 100% my own doing, but that doesn’t make it suck less. I finally decided to choose my.damn.self as opposed to cosigning on his warped version of reality. And all I have to say about that, in case you’re wondering if I was harsh, is: he brought up the Irish slaves argument when discussing current events. He uttered the words “men get raped too” unironically, and he had absolutely nothing nice to say about the plethora of women he’s dated in the last 20 years. What can I say..at the time I thought the sex was really really good. Was it though? Sometimes I think it could have been anyone, it could have been amazing with anyone at all, just because it had been so long since I’d felt fire from another person.
I can only imagine what kind of shape I’d be in if I was drinking and smoking every day; my strength is this fucking tenuous without it.