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I have faked it all day.  It’s exhausting.

I talked to BBF-she got her Mother’s Day present a few days early.  I sent her a box of clothes for her, some coffee, socks for her kids and a Mother’s Day card.  I was so happy she got it early, and she was super stoked. She told me to take my time letting go, of shutting myself off to him slowly.  I asked her if I did the right thing, letting him go.  She said I did, that I deserve a man that will stand by my side when things get rough, one that is there for me emotionally and mentally.  Maybe fate will intervene down the road, and I need to live.  

And she’s right.  I told her I’ve never really lived for myself, that I’ve been living for everyone else.  I don’t think the Fates will do anything for me, and that I don’t think I deserve someone to support me through my worst.  Who wants to see me when I can’t function, and try to get me to see the light?  Or make me see reason when I’m so manic I’m invincible?  I’m too much work..no one should choose that.  

Ever since I had dinner I’ve been anxious.  I heard him call my name.  I answered what back, and all I feel is his pain.  But does he feel mine?  Does he know how fucking hard it was-it IS-to walk away?? Does he, or anyone else for that matter, give a shit about how bad I feel?!?  How I’m fucking falling apart internally but wearing the god damned mask of indifference?!?!  No.  No one here gives two flying FUCKS.  And I’m fucking tired.  I’m fucking exhausted at playing and keeping up this charade.  

I’m so fucking tired of being alone, and being used, and trying too fucking hard to have friends that don’t fucking try even half of what I do.  I’m tired.  And emotional.   And I’m fucking heartbroken. And it fucking hurts. And I’m the selfish one to grieve.

I took two walks around the addition today…and I fought like hell to not crumple on them when the pain and loss felt like too much.  God forbid I let my emotions show.  No, they didn’t help clear my mind.   They only fueled the fire.  So I numbed my brain with The Mockingjay Pt. 1.  Then took a shower.  Fucking autopiloted it.  And it’s not something any amount of talk therapy or meds will do.  It has to run its course, I get that.  Doesn’t make it any less painful. 

Doesn’t make me anyless emotional.