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Sunday Night.

So, another awesome weekend. I’ve barely seen anyone, been to the gym twice (fucked up sleep pattern means I slept through Bikram, but I ran 5k this morning to compensate a little…plenty of time to go in future), got my shopping delivery and made a delicious lunch, then spoke to my mum for hours. I feel happy, and rested. About ready to go to sleep, aching slightly from the gym, but nothing serious. Its been nice to spend sometime getting myself in check.

Made my packed lunch for tomorrow, in bed in my too-big Hot Water Music shirt, with bed socks and a hot water bottle. I feel so satisfied and grateful for everything that I have and the people that I know and my family and friends. I may be a bit of a dick sometimes (and sometimes a lot of a dick), but although my values may get skewed occasionally, I would go to the ends of the earth for the people close to me. 

Big week in work, I’m ready to absolutely kick ass. 

No Harmony

I decided to make public all my updates from when Ed and I broke up in April. I don’t really know why. But we’ve broken up twice since. No-one reads this and even so, I don’t want to hide anything any more. 

I don’t know why I push people I love away. I don’t know why I lie about petty things, I don’t know why I have the insecurities and weird traits that I do. The last few weeks have been full of soul-searching and trying to fix things in myself in order to not do this again, to not have to cope with this sickening agony again and I don’t think I have it in me to get through it one more time. I love him with all my heart, and I always have done. And maybe, in a way, I always will. I feel so cruel and selfish for what I did. All the lies, all the pain I put him through. The time I cheated on him and hid it. And I lied to him when he asked me about it. Pathetic. I didn’t deserve a second chance that time, but for some reason he gave me one. I dealt with things badly, my own stress with work and inflated ego and inability to simply talk about things that were preying on my mind and bothering me, but I couldn’t deal with it like an adult. 

I’m so fucking sorry. 

I don’t know how this one man has got so deeply under my skin, to drive me to distraction to the point where, two months on, the thought of a future without him makes me feel sick and wake up in the night shaking. I need to cure myself. I can survive without him, I have my own place to live, a great job, good friends, big plans. All of which I have endless gratitude for. But all of these things just feel like necessary functions. My life lacks direction and purpose without him. A ship cast off into the ocean without maps or crew. 

Tonight I will be mostly drinking the rest of this (small) vodka and taking enough sleeping pills to allow me to sleep until morning. My eyes were red and sore this morning, longest Friday in the world. When I last saw him, I said that I would leave it up to him to get in touch with me when he deems fit to do so. That was nearly a week ago. Which is a tiny space of time in the grand scheme of things. Probably about 1/3000 of my life. It has taken every iota of strength of being not to get in touch with him. It would be wrong. I would seem pushy. I don’t want it to always feel like I’m angling to see him, but I miss our conversations. I miss him being there. I need to relax. One more hour until I see it appropriate to go to sleep.

I’m happier with myself, a little. Just distracted. Its so cold. Tired and brokenhearted.

Chapter 4. Ex Girlfriend in a Coma.

Barely slept again last night. I ended up self-medicating with wine and passed out at 10pm, only to awaken at 3am. I stayed up, talked to my friend Jamie, watched Obama announce that the US has the body of Osama Bin Laden. Woke up at 8am this morning. Started drinking. Decided that it would be a good idea to go into town, considering I have work tomorrow and I have to, reluctantly, recondition myself to be around people.

Went to a homeware shop. Bought some industrial adhesive to fix the towel rail in the kitchen that Ed tore off the wall when he was trying to change my lightbulbs. Drifted like a ghost through some clothes shops. I don’t know if anyone was aware I was there. I didn’t see anyone else. I couldn’t find anything I’d wear. 

I have toothache again. 

The only thing I have been listening to over the last 2 days is The Smiths. No hint of irony of this is lost on me. I went to Fopp to go and look at CDs. I received a text. There was a song about a second chance of love playing, I don’t know who it was by. I seized up and went to leave. It was from Ed. 

He wants to meet me an hour from now. I have never been more scared in my life.

I’m still drinking. I have still barely eaten. I did my make-up, and I don’t know why. Maybe because I don’t want him to see my tired, heavily circled eyes. Partly because I feel like I’m walking to my own execution and I want to leave this world looking decent.

Going to buy painkillers. I’m going to take his t-shirt with me. 

Nausea.

It isn’t getting any easier. I still haven’t slept more than a few hours. I still haven’t eaten. 

My limbs feel like they’re made of lead. I have so much to do. I need to apply for new jobs. I need to tidy my house. I’ve left it exactly as it was as I’ve barely left my bed for 29 hours. 

My mum came to see me last night. Which I needed. I think. She told me not to get my hopes up. Which is realistic, but not what I wanted to hear. 10am again. Nearly. I saw him sign in to facebook chat, which he never does, last night and my heart dropped like a stone in my chest. 

I just want to hear from him. I miss him more than words. How could I be so fucking stupid? It hurts me to know that I’ve hurt him as well. 

A second chance is all I want.