perksofbeingmel

It’s like you plan it. Like you know exactly when you’re going to do it.
There’s a look in your eye and a smirk on your face & you tense up just enough to look guilty as fuck.
And I laugh it off and go along with it. Still.
As soon as we’re done, I think “well that’s going to eat me alive for a week.” And it will. Just the way you designed it.
Therapists and books say I can control my reaction & I can control how I feel. They say that so I will try to turn my feelings off or turn them around. And I sure wish I could do that. I tell myself a lot of things to get through the day. But to turn off hurt takes a lot more than what I’ve got in me.

These people around you who get this glittery version of you amaze me. They have no fucking idea. Half of me wants to be glad someone still gets to see part of who you used to be. The other half is pissed I’m missing out. Some days I think some people can see what I see. But maybe those people are stronger than me. Maybe those people are more tolerant than me. Maybe those people don’t know what to do about it. 

On a good day I’ll make the effort to think about you, but that’s as far as I can get without spiraling. Just a quick glimpse of a good conversation I can replay in my head. Until your next attack and it makes the good disappear.

I’m not even trying to be a victim here, fuck that. & I try my hardest not to be hypocritical. And I think that’s relevant here. I just want some fucking empathy, maybe. For someone to tell me it’s actually not okay.