Venting 1.31.13

Today, I decided that I was NEED of therapy–of course I didn’t tell him that when I met with him, but I needed some sort of jolt back into this existence of, I’m not even sure what to call it.  I kept saying in my mind the entire time, I will not be depressed after today, but the truth is, I still am.  I’m pretending not to be at the moment, just so I focus on being totally honest about I truly feel, without a care in the world.  Then again, in actuality, I do care, because I keep using the fucking backspace key to correct words even when I told myself I wouldn’t.  I have a serious problem that probably doesn’t need a serious solution to solve.  I keep telling myself I need to get my life together, but I’m not even sure there is anything to really get together.  I have so much pain that stems from places I don’t even know in this moment and yet, the pain I can only claim wholly is of this relationship with my nerd that I’m trying to piece back together without her knowledge.  I don’t bring up us when we talk, so far and few in between, for fear that she will cut the conversation short and never call me again.  I often think about what she is doing at the very moment I’m thinking about her and often times, I hope she is not thinking about me.  I’m not feeling worthy of the love that she gave to me; the love she tried to share that often went unnoticed.  I know for a fact that she is not the problem, I am, but I can’t fix what’s broken because I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  NO matter how much therapy I endure, how many people I share my business with, at the end of the day, everything I am told, is just that, words and their meanings diminish with each passing moment.  This is my current fate; my current structure of my so-called life where I force myself to do shit so I don’t do something that I will regret–damn I know I already have too many of those.

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