To delete you.

There are so many things now that I have to change.
My computer desktop picture – my Blackberry screen picture.
My MySpace picture. I need to catch the early bus on Thursdays and Friday’s so that I don’t see you at the bus stop. Take photos off my wall so I don’t see your face looking at me every time I come home to my now permanently empty apartment. I have to stop listening to certain songs, lest I cry on the bus, at work, walking, eating, and living. I have to stop calling my fish the names that you gave them because it gives me the shits. I have to stop wearing certain perfumes so that I don’t remember you – and how they affected you – or how it was the first thing that you ever said to me. I have to delete so much of you and physically it’s impossible. I changed my relationship status. That was a no brainer. I have to pick up my passport tomorrow morning before I catch the early bus so that I can concentrate on my “holiday trip” to get the fuck out of here and try to regain some sanity or hindsight as to why “relationship number four” has failed.

I’m going to get into my job – which I’m not happy in but who cares? Who is going to listen to me talk about it. I have to move on. I have to meet new people, spend time with people that are “interested” in me so that I can feel good about myself again. Replace the self esteem that was slowly broken down over the last three months. Become myself again without feeling too brash or loud or objective. My friends loved me – seeing me out. They loved spending time with me. Now I don’t even want to see them. I just want to sit in my house and cry. I want to fucking hurt myself because I can’t/won’t hurt you. I want to drink and take sleeping tablets and sleep. I want to sleep this away. I want to stop thinking, to stop crying. To stop feeling like there is a hole in my chest the size of your hands and mine combined. I want to stop loving you.

I want to remember my life before you. Yeah it was emptier before I met you, but I was happy and whole within myself. I knew who I was and I respected myself. Now I don’t even know myself. I’m not blaming you. I hid this part of me in the hopes that you would love me. Don’t think it hasn’t happened before. The same thing happened with Trent. The “Crazy” girl that he fell in love with became the “crazy” girl that he wanted to be saved from. I can’t be what anyone wants me to be. I just am what I am. Sometimes I hate things that I do – but I’m not out to hurt anyone [anymore] least of all you. I just want to be quiet, to rest. I feel so tired and cold these days. This week. So empty. You took so much of me when you left.

Left

It has risen, your high colour
Masking your cheeks with that which is
And the fury swirls within – taking you out from this that is

All in all you are taken from me, taking out the trash + I am wasted, a waste.
That rots my very teeth.

The Start Of Something.

I don't know who I would even want to tell about this. Who I would want/let read it? I guess the anonomity of it would have been a great idea, but I fucked that up already.

There is nothing worse than having all these things inside of you that you want to get out. Words, sounds, meanings that once let loose are gone forever and anyone who stumbles upon them can jusdge you or class you as they see fit.

I ahve had a written diary all of my life. since being with ellie I've not written in one. I start a new diary when I am with a long term partner. I think it is a little sick to be smelling/touching/seeing things that remind me of them whilst I am writing about the person I am now in love with. An internet blog/diary is nothing on a written diary, yet I can't bring myself to have one with her. She wouldn't read it [only if I shut down and refused to talk for long periods of time] I know that about her. I trust her. But having said that- I don't trust what I would say - what I would write. There are things in my life that even I can't write/talk about.

So I guess it is all betetr left unsaid.