But apparently, I am.
The truth: I really like Brian. More probably than I would want to admit even to him. And him breaking things off doesn't change that. It just pushes my already close to a nervous break down further into the tubes.
It's easier to be okay and pretend like it never happened than it is to face it and break down. I learned that a year and a half ago. Please God, don't let me do that again. So if I'm sad, I'm sorry. If I can't breathe, or if I don't feel like talking, I'm sorry. I just have to be sad right now. And I'm sure that it'll get better soon. But if I'm not sad now, when will I be? Will it be a year later when I suddenly burst into tears and can't move?
I just want him back. I guess that's all.
I had a dream about killing myself last night. It was bizarrely peaceful. I'm not suicidal, I desperately cling to life, and I love most of the things around me. It was just a strange shift in my psyche. I promise I'm not going to kill myself. I just thought I'd include it in the blog. I got 9 hours of sleep. It's easier to sleep than think about things.
I'm not this girl. I never have been.
But then, I guess I am.
the truth: you could slit my throat, and with my one last gasping breath, I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt.
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