Broken Doll

one relationship ends, you’ve got the next one all lined up already no waiting no grief

i thought you felt something i thought you cared about me i thought you were different

just like i thought he was and i have no idea how often i’m going to end up saying that before it sinks in finally it’s never any different

again. or is it still?

i don’t know if any of this will even help. i followed the standard advice, and ended up here.

and honestly I’m not convinced that my brain is broken. i think my life is.
and no one can fix that.

this may well be the most rational response i can make to an existence gone utterly insane.

He said he wasn’t going anywhere. He said he wanted to support me.

I bought it, too. Again. Stupid.

But when I ask for help a week ago, he snaps at me. He rarely returns emails now, and never returns phone calls. He keeps me at a distance, and half the time I end up feeling like the only reason he agreed to hang out with me (in groups, only) was so he could spend time with Amata.

Silly me. If I call someone a “friend” it means I have a certain emotional investment in them. I don’t keep them at a distance, I don’t refuse to talk to them, and I sure as hell don’t begrudge them my time or my help. You were so worried about remaining friends and here you are the one that’s killing it.

I think you’re right though. Willingness to stay friends might just say something about how much you cared in the first place. I’ve been trying. So where the fuck are you?

Honestly…

Am I the one who has broken my life? Or is this simply the most rational response I can have to this horrific end result of things beyond my control?

What gets accomplished by digging up ancient history? Will it do anything other than re-open old wounds, dump a whole shitload of fresh trauma on my head, and make things even worse than they already are?

I don’t need to pay money for that to happen. It happens just fine on its own.

I don’t see how I can change anything. What’s happening isn’t my doing. And every therapist I’ve ever seen has either been unwilling or unable to show me. If they were waiting on me, they need to get a clue. If I knew what was broken or how to fix it I wouldn’t be there in the first place.

Add to this the money issue. I already have a few grand in medical bills that I may or may not ever be able to pay off, with a brand-new giant deductible that will hit me by March (another CT scan) if not before. My mental health coverage is a joke (and this from a plan that would cover anything else at 100% because I blew through my deductible last March).

Basically… unless this theoretical therapist has the backing of a hospital, a charity foundation, or some other large organization, she’ll have to eat at least 75% of the cost.

This isn’t going to work.

now i know why you all hate me

if you’re going to destroy everything if you’re going to take it all away

give me just one thing one wish

please

i don’t want to wake up tomorrow

Or it might as well be.

Too broken to fix. And who would want to love that? Who even could?

What I feel isn’t even real. It’s not love, it’s a lie. It’s a disease.

What I feel is what I am. I’m not real. I’m a monster.

Too broken and unlovable and love is the one thing I have ever needed.

There is no future. Just a black hole of nothing, of never connecting, of never getting what I need.

No wonder he doesn’t want me.