Sunday, July 8, 2012

Alina, that comment was so sweet, thank you.
Thank you to everyone who has commented. I always feel like everyone will take H's side over mine, like for some reason unless he tortures the person, they will always give him the benefit of the doubt. But it's nice when I have friends good enough to hate who I hate and feel what I feel and love as I do. It's nice to have friends.
Last night I went for a long bike ride because I was so pissed at H. He tried to call me to see where I had gone, but I didn't bring my phone with me. I didn't even associate the bike with H and the negative feelings that go with it all, because I was riding my own new bike for the first time, and let me say it rides amazingly.
I woke up this morning at 151.7 or somewhere around there. Either way it is less than yesterday and I am proud and happy about that.
After the bike ride I ended up having a coughing fit- an asthma attack I guess. K woke up to see what was going on, and H crawled over to see if I was okay. The concerned look on his face was amazing. Then he slept next to me in the bedroom and at some point woke me up because he thought I had stopped breathing. he hasn't done that in so long. It was nice to see someone who is so selfish actually take a moment to care about someone else. But I won't take anything from that because I know what kind of a person he is and that things will not change because of one instance.
His face was so scared when he shook me awake though lol...
I always breath really shallow, especially when sleeping, so it sometimes really does appear that I have stopped breathing. He used to check more often but that was a long time ago; months ago. When I was in the hospital at the beginning of the year, I couldn't lay back or rest at all because every time I did the machine would make loud warning noises because it thought I had stopped breathing too.
I consider this a sort of... victory over H. It means nothing but I feel as if I have drawn something from H that he does not allow himself to feel. It makes me feel powerful and more in control. I always was good at manipulating my mom tells me, but I would call it existing. I didn't pretend to have an asthma attack, and I did not pretend to stop breathing, and in no way did I force the asshole to care.
Haha feels nice...
H's dad only wants $25 rent this month. He originally asked for $40 but must have heard me complaining. I really hate H. He promises to be nice, which I always give him the fucking benefit of the doubt and then he goes and rolls his eyes and gets mean about everything I say. I am not allowed to say a fucking thing without judgement.
Now he says I say, "you don't work there" too many times. Well you know what? He doesn't have a fucking job. He doesn't fucking work fast food. He isn't stuck in a relationship with someone who just wants to be friends, has no feelings for the other while being heartbroken, lonely, alone, and fucking stuck in a job with too few hours to escape that exact shit. And then he attacks everything I say. When I joke he replies with "awkward" or says something mean and then laughs and gets angry saying, "Gees it was just a joke. Take a joke." Well it isn't funny to me. It isn't funny when he sits there and jokes about all women being stupid and worthless and then asks me to fetch him water, or make him food, or get his ice pack.
Who puts up with this shit? Why do I not feel I am worth enough to put myself in a better situation? Why does every possibility of escape fill me with dread and fear? Why do I let myself be destroyed? Why do I have no respect for myself, and yet love a mean, cruel, destructive person who can only think of himself?
What possessed me to let myself live? To let myself exist when I could have ended it all? The knife is in the other room. All I have to do is get it, and use it. But I am a coward. I am afraid of pain. I am afraid of death. I am afraid of not existing. I am afraid that ending my misery will never give me a chance, the chance I deserve to find happiness. And yet I constantly berate myself torturing myself with thought of self loathing and self hatred. I tell myself I do not matter, I am not worth anything, and then I turn around and say, I am not even worth the knife. I must continue to live through this because I deserve it. I deserve the pain and torture life brings.
It is fear that keeps me from living up to the world's standards, my own standards, and any standard high enough to give me the happiness I dream about. And then it is fear, that keeps me from ending that chance, even as I know there isn't one. The cycle is not H's fault, is not anyone else's fault but my own.
I dream of leaving, of being alone, and yet I fear loneliness. I wish the entire being of my pain would just blow up the troubles around me and set me free. I wish I could just walk away from this life, from any trouble, heartbreak, pain, or negativity and go to some place where none of that would exist. I dream of my brain caving in and shutting down. Being able to watch the outside world, but not having to leave the walls of my own mind. And whether that puts me on the streets or in the hospital, the caring would no longer be my burden. My mind would be numb, dead, and my body would be someone else's responsibility.
Pain. It never goes away.
H would say I am over thinking things, that I need to calm down. That he has problems too and I need to stop blowing mine up. He would become angry with my selfishness, and at my stupidity for wanting to escape from it. He would call me immature, for not just living life. Both stupid and immature, for talking about my pain, for having pain, for wanting to die. he would think my inability to cope ugly. He does think it is stupid. It is all in my head. "I have felt panic before," he would say. And he has. So we would talk of understanding, and then condemn me for my fear. It is stupid and immature to have fears, or to talk of fears, or to let fears control you. It is not okay for me to cry. Crying gets on his nerves. Then if I asked if my tears bothered him, he would say they do not, because he knows it is okay to cry, he just hates it when I do.
These are all common things I have to deal with, but he would say they are life. They are reality. He would say to just live with it, and deal with it. But overall, he would want me gone, because my emotional state is stressing him out.
Say whatever you want girls, but in this world, in this house, what H says is law, and until I leave, I must abide by them. I cannot sleep now for panic. H is angry at me again. I can't just let it not affect me. He is the tormentor...