Yesterday I moved all my stuff into one room, so I can hide in here until the situation changes. Yep. My life is reduced to hiding.
I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG, FUCKIT! WHY DO I HAVE TO HIDE?
I am now striking the time where my mind is groping around, trying to understand, to rationalise, to make reasonable the unreasonable. Why did this happen? How could someone do something like that? Why didn't I see what was going on? Am I such a fool? Is my judgement that bad? Is there any way I can blame myself? You know, blaming yourself makes everything easier, because then you can change yourself and supposedly make it better. But I can't. Changing myself will not make this better.
I am very sad, for what I thought I had, for the hope I went into it with, and for the amount of myself I put into it. It feels wasted. I have no doubt that at some point in the future I will regain that hope, but right now I'm more into being the crazy dog lady that sits on the porch and shoots rock salt at anyone that crosses the boundary.
I am tempted to promise that this is the last post of this nature that I'll make. I know nobody wants to read about someone tearing themselves apart over something they can't fix. But, you know, I can't make that promise. I promised myself I wouldn't hide how I was feeling. I can't predict how I'll be feeling from day to day at the moment.
Mostly I just want it to stop, to wake up and for everything to be ok. Yes, I am a dreamer.