the last post

was really on March 20, 2020.
I just left it in the drafts forever.




I'm just here to tell you I'm still alone.
In my head, and in my heart I'm terribly alone.
I have a boyfriend but I can't really differentiate the difference from being his #2 to his #1.
I don't know if I dive in or still stay hidden like I've been.
I still haven't opened up, and I feel like he likes that he doesn't have to deal with those parts of me.
The real parts, the messy, the baggage.
But then here am I with no one.


No one really knows that I almost killed myself last year.
I fought myself every single day to not kill myself.
Every single night that I was alone in my room, in my apartment without anyone to talk to that genuinely cared.
I had no one, and I still don't.
I can't think of one person that I can call and talk to about my feelings, or problems.
Not one.

I'm alone, and this is not a safe place to be alone in.
My head.


He doesn't want me to tell him that I'm going to go before him.
But little does he know, I really am.
He may not know, but I know.
I am going soon, I don't know the date but soon.
Which is why I just want him to enjoy me while he has me, but he doesn't get it.



All I really really want is to finally be happy, and free.
And I don't mean free as in 'tied down'...
I mean free to be me, without any restrictions or judgement.
I just want someone to enjoy watching me be who I am, without parenting me.
I am a fucking parent.
You're just supposed to co-sign what I do.
I want to live life to the fullest, do everything I've never done, do everything I was never allowed to do, laugh, smile, feel the feeling of being happy and often.
That's all I want.
Which is free, yet I haven't met anyone who could afford that.
I always have to compromise that, in order to be with them.
I have to give up who I am, what I like to do, what I enjoy...for them.
So here I am, crying at home with my kids in the other room with their cousin having a sleepover because I just got into argument with my boyfriend about why it's not okay that our mutual male co-worker texted me asking for another co-workers number.


Does he treat me good?
Yes.
Compared to how my ex's have treated me, yes.
He treats me like I've never been treated before.
But I think he knows that.
Because he tells me compared to his ex's or the girls he's been with, he treats me horrible.
His horrible is my wonderful apparently.

He doesn't understand the pile of shit life I've lived before him.
He doesn't understand the pile of shit ass men I've been with.
I was so miserable, every single day I was crying.
Every single day I was begging God to kill me, or him.
I remember sobbing on my hands and knees in the shower(because I wasn't allowed to cry in front of him), having anxiety attacks and trying to talk to God about an exit out.
I prayed everyday for the exit door because I couldn't leave.
And nothing.
Me surviving and living through that marriage, and still getting the shit end of the stick showed me that God doesn't give a fuck about me...or there just isn't one.
For that piece of shit man to come out on top in the end?
Yeah, no.

You don't get it.
No one cares to get it, or will ever.
Only me.



So yeah, I'm here to tell you I'm alone but I'm not lonely.