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My Boyfriend Died At The Laker’s Game

You’re gone now and I don’t know where you went. I can still feel your arms around me, the safe feeling of them. I can still remember the way you kissed me and how it made me feel like I was the focus of the world. I remember the way you looked at me and suddenly I mattered. I remember how you spoke to me and suddenly everything was really going to be okay.

I haven’t had any of those feelings in a very long time. That man, that person is no longer alive. And the man that you’ve become is someone I cannot love. It hurts too much to love him. It hurts too much to see him and remember the man who thought I was his. The man I thought was mine. The man I thought I would be happy for the rest of my life with. It hurts too much to look at you now and know that none of that will happen. It hurts too much to know that I let you pick me up and that (rather than dropping me) you just…disappeared.


Your Love Is A Lie

I was really hoping that when we agreed to each others requests it would work out. I promised to listen to his ideas, to acknowledge their merit. He promised to not tell me to “get over it” when I came to him with my feelings and to give real consideration to how I felt. Less than 48 hours later he was calling me stupid and telling me to “get over” the fact that he shot me down when I was opening up to him. C’lest la vie!

The truth is I’m too terrified of ending up alone to break things off. I know how horrible he is. I am not beyond seeing that the rare nice moments do not make up for the sheer number of shitty ones. I’m sure that someone else could love me more, better – or even more nicely. I don’t know why I’m staying. At this point there are zero benefits and nothing but pain. I feel like a dog that is expected to wait at the door until “master” comes home and pats my head before heading off to more important matters. (Maybe that’s why I never cared for dogs?) (more…)

Staring At The End

Truth be told: I didn’t actually know of athazagoraphobia existed until I saw this image. It really struck a chord. I am certainly scared kitten-less at the thought that my family, friends or significant other will forget me. A lot of my being avoidant (and  borderline) personality disordered is the hysterical fear of being left alone. Oftentimes, as a result of my own insecurity, I feel forgotten.