Late Night

Hey,

Yes, I’m fine. Well. As fine as I can be. Don’t worry, I slept a little. Woke up to take a shower and wanted to, do this before I sleep again.

Look, I don’t have any excuse or reason for how, really the past little bit has been going. To you. To me. To us. I wish that I could tell you, I really do.

Apart of me has had a nagging feeling deep down that I’ve gone too deep in being ill, effecting you because of such. Please bear with me on this, I know you’re going to deny it.

You’re right. You can’t help. You don’t know what to do. I’m starting to accept that, and it’s okay. I need to start relying on myself/the system and start advocating for myself again. I should have paid more attention to your needs and wants. Going forward, I hope to be more observant to those.

I know I can try to write everything over and over again, but we’re both just a record player at this point, aren’t we?

I can’t reassure you. You can’t reassure me. You’re worried. I’m worried. You really do have to step on eggshells around me, please don’t sugarcoat it. This isn’t what I want for you to experience. I wish I could show you that I can function, that I’m human too, that I know I’m trying, but it isn’t doing enough for the stability you look for in me. You aren’t used to people functioning like this, no? I’m not sure. You can counter that statement.

We are not healthy. God, I’m nowhere near that hun. No matter how much progress I make, there’s always obstacles. I worry that I won’t ever be the happy that people look for in me. When people tell me that they can’t help me, I feel so, broken. So many have told me that, it doesn’t phase me anymore.

I don’t know why I do the things I do. I don’t know why I think the things I do. Please give me fault where it’s due.

I know I make you extremely happy, and you do too. I also know that I’ve been hurting you more and more the past few months. I’m aware and acknowledge that the two aren’t correlated, but it doesn’t cover the fact that I’m no* good for you. Honestly? I think I’m extremely toxic towards you. I can’t do what I’ve done before, I told myself that I was going to be able to control it. Fix it. Fix me. If I wasn’t so committed to work, you, Archie, and other factors, I would have checked myself into a hospital a long time ago.

I don’t, believe I’m feeling suicidal right now. I always used that as a way to escape from things. To minimize the fact that I can’t go back and redo things, change things.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I don’t know what I want. Maybe comfort? I can’t keep doing this. I say that, so many times don’t I.

…I wanted to get to a point where you didn’t have to be so worried and stressed over things I do. I wish you knew me differently. Perhaps, normal? I don’t think I’ve achieved that. I can’t get the night of the move out of my head. It has been on my mind since, honestly. I knew/feared things wouldn’t be the same after that. I fucked up, and I can never fix it. You were right about everything. Everything was justified.

I’m sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever get better. But I’ll stay here because I have many things to live for. Very few, but they’re there. I, suppose I say this in reference to you. You said that you couldn’t watch me destroy myself anymore. You have every right to leave if you can’t take it. Because you’re right, again. I can’t watch myself do this to you either, but the ways I knew how to keep myself in line aren’t options anymore.

I know I’ll say that I’ll get better, that I’m trying, but those words seem empty now, don’t they?

So, I’ll try this.

I will be here for as long as you need me, because deep down I love and need you too. No matter what form it is, you do give me meaning. Thank you, and I’m sorry. I hope some of this made sense. I know this is going to worry you, but please don’t. I am sleeping now, and will return to normal living, like every other day. That’s how it all goes.

I love you. Forever and always. ❤️