FUCK I’m depressed.

So my new(ish) medication is giving me the worst insomnia. I’m fucking exhausted and I can’t sleep. I want to punch myself in the face until I pass out.

At this point, I’ve reconciled that never, ever will I be with/be friends with/possibly talk to my ex again. I mean, DUH, right? Dude hates me. I’m not sad that he’s not with me anymore, which is a plus, but I’m still broken over what I consider to be an unfair rejection.

I was talking (read: drunk and weeping again) to my friend Ben last night, and he told me that I was being unbelievably hard on myself. “You’re beating yourself up so badly right now and it’s killing me, why are you doing this to yourself??” Because I’m sad. Because while rationally I know I’m awesome, blah blah blah, I feel stupid. Like a fucking idiot. Like I was manipulated, used, and goaded into overreacting because a dude was looking for a reason to dump me.* I keep comparing my one fuck up to the plethora of shady behavior I’ve had to deal with, and again, I feel like a fucking moron. Am I increasingly convinced that he cheated on me? Yeah… Can I claim violation of trust? No, because I kept getting imperfect information, no concrete evidence. I decided to give the benefit of the doubt; I forgave, I continued to trust. Now that I make one mistake, I’m the one that ruined everything because I “violated his trust.” WOW. You can say that because you have ‘proof’, and I can’t because all I have are rumors that shouldn’t be spreading if you were being honest with me. I have stories my friends relay to me of seeing you in places where you shouldn’t be, of you basically running away when they TRUSTED YOU TOO and said hi, as two confused girls followed after you. All I have is you being suspicious of me because I came down unexpectedly one time, and you were convinced I was trying to catch you at something…. I mean, who says that?? Doesn’t that mean that I could have??!

**Deep breath in, deep breath out, some jumping jacks and push ups to wake me up**

*Sigh*…How can I explain a 180 shift from one of the best Valentine’s days I’ve ever had, to being single, faced with back to back rejection, and a black eye (though it’s now basically healed; again, another plus) a week later… OH! and a week before my birthday. I can’t, and it’s nagging me like you wouldn’t even believe. Like an itchy foot when you’re wearing boots, a pair of panties determined to remain in wedgie status, that pimple you get around your chin before your period that hurts like a motherfucker but refuses to surface.

I’m fucking depressed. I’m angry. I feel like my trust and my love were mutilated, torn into tiny bits and thrown right back in my face. I just want an apology, an acknowledgement of mutual fuck-up-ery. Instead I get silence. I can’t stand being actively ignored because it’s petty, childish, and really fucking hurtful. The only thing that keeps me remotely sane (besides my beautifully supportive friends and family, basically the best free therapists I could ever have) is the understanding that I won’t feel this way for long. I will eventually heal. My heart will eventually mend. Because no one deserves that much extended emotional energy from me. What kills me right now is that he’s still receiving it. And he doesn’t. fucking. deserve it.

Current Jam: “Far Behind” Social Distortion and any other breakup song I can get my mitts on.

*I can only glean that theory from the few things that his (few) friends (who now seem to have turned their back on me despite claiming that we were still buddies) have told me, which kills me even more. I get that loyalties lie where they may… but damn.

2 thoughts on “FUCK I’m depressed.

  1. I’ve just come across this blog, and the writing is real! (From my outside view) your ex seems like a cheater and a liar, a metaphor for that pimple on your chin. Trust the messenger, even though it hurts. If someone seems like they have something to hide, they most likely do.

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