Lestibournes

I sent a very long text to my father past night. Things had been eating away at me, my anger kept intensifying, and finally I made a decision. I have enough on my mind trying to find my way in the world and all he’s done is make things harder for me. I don’t need that in my life at all. Not right now.

In spite of what I said, I still think of you constantly. Fuck my life dude.

I find that I say to myself, “I don’t care.” A lot lately.

I’ve been out of it since Tuesday night. Been thinking about a lot of shit that really only one person knows.

I don’t know what happened. The things I’ve kept to myself since I was a child just came tumbling out and the words just kept pouring from my mouth.

I honestly regret that I spoke of it. Not because of who I told, but because I’ve never wanted to tell anyone. These things were my problems to deal with, and I never wanted to lay them on top of someone else. Everyone has their own burdens, and I dislike it when people put theirs on my shoulders. The weight I carry seems heavy enough, and so I don’t like weighing people down.

I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t fucking know. I wonder if the fact that I think I’m going mad means I’m not really. That whole, “Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy.” Cliché. The only truth is I don’t, and haven’t felt right in a very, very long time.

I don’t need anyone. And right now I don’t want anyone. I finally found and flipped the switch. Chelsea, who I’m sure will read this, is actually the one that helped me find it. She said some of the things I was afraid to accept. Things that deep down I knew to be true. I still need a bit of time to pull myself entirely together, but I feel more calm than I have in months.

I will say now what I didn’t want to admit before: If you loved me as you said, the choice would have been easy.

But its not your fault, if I had loved you the way you did love me, I wouldn’t have left you in the first place.

A bit of me will always care for you, but the truth is that we probably aren’t even compatible anymore, and so this is all for the best. Everything happens for a reason afterall.

And to you, Chelsea: Jordan seems to make you happy, so stay with him. But I would like to be friends.

As for everything else, I’m just going to focus on my career and find what happiness I can in it, and everything else that I have. I’ll find my way, and get what I can out of life. That is enough.

Just pick up the pieces and put them back together. It’s the only thing I ask, but it is no light task.

I’ve been overwhelmingly sad the past two nights. This is ridiculous, its been months. Fucking months. I’m so sick and tired of it. I keep trying to fix it in my head, but I fail everytime.

It’s like my mind shattered into a million little pieces, and every time I try to piece it back together I end up getting cut by them.

I mean, realizing I just said, “a million little pieces” was enough to cut me open even more, remembering it was you that told me to read that book.

People at work have started to realize I’m not normal. When things go to shit it doesn’t even phase me, and they’re all like, “You just act like everything is fine when its not.”

Nothing is fine, everything is fucked up to me. But what is a port closing compared to never being able to talk to the one I believe is my soulmate. It’s nothing. It’s like comparing the light from a candle to the light from the sun. So no, that shit doesn’t bother me. It’s just one more fucked up thing to add to the list of fucked up things in my life, and it doesn’t even hold a very high spot on the list.

And you just remain silent. Always watching, but never saying a word. It’s coming to the point that I have to look at the email, and listen to the song just to reassure myself that I didn’t make the whole thing up in my mind. Just to make sure I’m not fucking insane. I feel insane. I definitely don’t feel right. I feel like I’ll never be okay again.

Damn you for coming back into my life and then shoving me back out of yours. Damn you for reading every single word I say and never offering any words of your own.

Damn me for fucking it up the first time around. Damn me and my inability to move on. And just damn me in general.

Damn everything. Fuck it all. None of it is even worth it anymore.

I’m going to promptly go get as intoxicated as I can and pass the fuck out.

Goodnight.

Too many holes left unfilled. I can’t ignore my gut, whether I may be overly suspicious or not.

I explain the title of this blog in the little bio section. The name comes from a trilogy written by Brandon Sanderson, in which a young boy gives himself the name, “Lestibournes”, which in the slang of his city means, “I have been abandoned”

I don’t share this blog because its meant for one person only, and that is the one who has abandoned me. Because its the only tie I have left where I can speak freely to her.

It’s not meant for others, and what others may see here has the potential to hurt them.

So if you are reading this, then that is why I said I was sorry. This is a door in my mind that you were not supposed to step through.

My guess is that I didn’t have the space I thought I did.