The Thing About Me
And then…
This whole fucking thing; this has affected me in so many ways, it's hard to see straight. I've hurt so many and been hurst, also, by so many people. I couldn't trust anyone; I made people believe in futures that never really existed. I've been lying to the world, I feel. I just want it to stop. I just want it all to stop so that I can rest my mind and let all this shit go, I feel like it's too much to handle; that my chest will explode and then I stop myself. I stop because there are people that have much shittier things to worry about than I do; that there are people that have shit to worry about beyond their control so, because of that I'm just crying piece of shit… I've always been harder on myself than anyone. We are our own worst critics. Truer words, my friends… Truer words indeed.
If I had answered my ex truthfully that night I would have told her: I don't want to bring in some child into the world that I'm going to end up fucking up for life; I don't want another reflection of myself in the world for fucksake. I am ashamed of where I come from and the ugliness that makes it all up; I don't want to be a disappointment for someone else, nor do I wish to see the faces of the past that still haunt me… That's what I would have said… But even that is bull shit. Because these worries, they're but insecurities. My ex saw in me something that was greater than all that shit; she saw more in me than I would allow myself to see within me. She believed in what I had abandoned hope in. And I am a broken fool… But, for these words, a more self-aware and stronger fool. And I have her to thank.
I don't ask for sympathy here. I don't want it; I don't feel I deserve it. I just want it to be known. The “why” of it all. If I never speak these words to another person, here they remain… Somewhere in this fucked up world on this shitty blog.
I'm not alone. I'm loved. I'm not perfect. I am, at best, a very broken person… and that's okay. I'm okay. These things I've experienced and endured may in some way define me, but they do not define the course I choose to take. At the end of the day I choose the path I wish to forge. Me. Regardless of all the shit, it's always been me at the steering wheel. This is me and the final say on why I didn't want children… This also means I can let go of a lot of this shit now and focus on “what's next.” Because that's where my mind is now.
Now get the fuck out and take your fail with you, you sons of dirty bitches!
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