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highway to hell
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thanks for all the emails and comments =) i'm okay, though not that okay. he cheated on me again, for the 87873289430th time, but yet i still lie disguised under the pretence of not knowing, wishing that maybe somehow he would change for the better.
it's never gonna fucking happen.
i want so badly to confront him, to scratch him until i draw blood. but i just cannot bring myself to such a confrontation, fearing that if i do so i'd never be able to see him again, even as friends. so now he is still blissfully unaware of my knowing.
i have no choice but to adopt a wait-and-see approach, since he's flying away again tomorrow for a week. i want to see his face as i tell him, calmly, what i have found out, and this time round it should be pretty damn good since he was the one who initiated that "we should try again, put the past behind us" and of course i fell for it hook, line and sinker like the dumbass i usually am.
how the fuck can i even trust him with his proven track record? (trust me despite my hostility now all it takes is a bit of persuasion from him to make me completely forget the previous lessons learnt.)
it disgusts and pains me greatly to know that the very same bed i slept on a few days ago bore traces of another woman who slept in the same spot just hours ago.
i thought i wouldn't give two hoots anymore but i caved in and suddenly all the desolation i've managed to get rid off overwhelmed me like a flash flood, on top of the other issues i've been grappling with.
it is impossible to describe the exact state of hopelessness one feels when everything feels like it's crashing down. like the milder sibling of a panic attack, you are rendered completely useless both mentally and emotionally. your tightly balled fists shivering from the pressure exerted, mind racing to find the quickest solution to end it all. by reflex you crawl to the kitchen cabinet to retrieve the alcohol. nothing much changes, you can only feel worse.
i encountered this episode last night, one of several in the past year. i was a slobbering mess and a pathetic one at that. i forced the vile liquid down my throat so that i could seek respite in sleep.
i woke up feeling as shitty and i suddenly felt the urge to do something. which i did. i needed to do something to wake myself up from this limbo, to remind myself of my existence.
so i went to get myself a nice little tattoo, even though i've never had any sort of inclination of getting myself inked, ever.
was a bloody impromptu decision which took me all of five grand minutes after i woke up to decide (no thanks to my altered state of mind, might regret it when i'm emotionally stable) but god, it felt so good.
thanks shell, for being there.
i am going to end this 'vacation' of mine early, settle down in a new job ASAP, pick up a few cute guys at some sleazy bar, and rent more DVDs.
it says "i don't give a fuck" in french.
