Fat and Slutty

I am struggling.

I’ve written and then deleted at least four messages to T today. I want to tell him how much I want him to stay in my life, how badly I miss him. How devastated I am by this loss. But I can’t. I said he wouldn’t hear from me again, and it would be fucked up to reach out now. But fighting those urges is so hard. So, instead, I’m here writing about him again. It’s possible he’ll read this, and that is something I’m aware of. (Maybe even hopeful for?)  But it’s more probable that he won’t.

I’m so bitterly disappointed. I can’t stop crying. I didn’t think there were any tears left to shed for him, but my eyes continue to prove that I was wrong. I just want to go to him, bury my head in his neck and beg him to stay. Not to be mine, just to stay. I don’t feel strong, I feel weak and vulnerable and pathetic. I hate this.

I’m so mad that he chose this. When there were so many other choices he could have made. I’m mad at myself for not reacting better. I’m mad at myself for being so feeble. I’m mad at myself for feeling so broken. I’m mad at myself for not being able to pull myself together and get over it immediately. I can’t look at pictures of us, or the things he gave me. I can’t look at his name.

We communicated mostly through Instagram. Every time I go to share something, his name is there. Right at the top. Because until recently I shared all the things with him. How long will it take for it to not be there anymore? I keep seeing things that I would have sent to him, but now I can’t. Every notification I get with that little camera logo gives me this horrible pang of excitement immediately followed by tragedy when my brain catches up with the reality of everything.

I feel like a whiny teenager right now, writing these things. Like I should be far too old for this shit. But it’s real and honest. This is how I feel. For now, I’ve deactivated my IG account. I need to take a break and recalibrate. I need to stop seeing his name every time I interact with a post. I need less temptation to contact him. And seeing him constantly, right there at the touch of button, is just a little too much to bear right now. Tapping on his profile and seeing the private account screen is a little too upsetting.

Shit that shouldn’t matter, but is all representative of this colossal loss I’m feeling, is just a bit more than I know how to cope with in this moment. Self-pitying fuck that I am.

Fuck, I miss him so fucking much.