I've just got so much going through my mind that I need to vent out, and in all honesty, I do think this is doing me good. Slyvia Plath summed it up pretty well;
"I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still."
Granted I'm not a poet, or a writer, or anything artistic like that, but I completely get what she's saying... There are times when I feel like I could write for ages and ages, and the words are just flowing from my fingers.
I'm really strung out and confused as to what I'm feeling; half of the time we're happy campers, and he says he loves me, and he kisses me like he means it... and then when things go tits up again it's hatred, and barely able to say I love you. I understand it, I understand him being pissed off, and not liking me, but not loving me. Love shouldn't be dictated by this. I don't know. I sat here crying my eyes out literally wanting to kill myself; I looked at what painkillers we had, I imagined slicing my wrists. It's not the fact that this has happened that makes me want to kill myself, it's the not being able to see a way out of this fucked up life of mine I've created. And for him to say that I'm putting our relationship on a knife-edge because of my being emo... I've supported to the umpteenth degree through everything, and especially when he was acting all suicidal... I feel just 'down' for a couple of days because I'm over-tired, and I'm the one pushing our relationship.
The insecure part of me is just thinking that he's using it as an excuse to get out of this relationship. Which I do understand. I'm sure the mature and unselfish part of me should give him the option to get out of it. But the thought of life without him scares me. I do love him. I do. I do.
