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I don’t want to say I’m leaving for good but I kind of am.
No, there is no kind of here. I’m leaving. I’m keeping the blog up, there’s a chance that I’ll update with things that I wrote for him because there’s so much left on the cutting room floor and I’m sure there are unanswered questions, but I can’t be here anymore, at least not right now. One of these days, I might come back to him as a muse and I really, really hate to do this, but…
I can’t do this anymore. I doubt that this is a thing a two-week hiatus will take care of, in fact, I’m almost certain I wouldn’t come back anyway. He’s too broken. He can’t grow anymore, and I’m done trying to force him. The poor boy needs to just be put out of his misery, and if I do a hard reset, I’m just going to hit this point again and I’m far too exhausted to deal with it.
So, this is my goodbye. It’s been a great run, I’ve made some amazing friends and some worthy enemies, and everything in between. I’ll miss the times we had, but I think that this is for the best.
And who knows?
Starting a new journey may not be so hard, or maybe it has already begun.
Thanks for everything. Take it easy and all that jazz.
The boy was sicker than he let on, in an ever-so-natural Kadaj way.
He tells me that I’m slipping away from him.
And he is right.
I don’t have the heart to tell him how far away I feel from everyone including myself. I don’t have the heart to tell him how distant I feel from everything, how I hardly give a damn about anything and everything that used to matter to me, how bad it’s gotten between now and then because I thought I had my shit under control but every waking second only reminds me exactly how much control I’ve lost over everything.
Likewise I don’t have the gall to tell him that he’s gotten himself involved with the most fucked-up guy on the planet and I don’t think that I can be fixed, because I feel like every reason I give him to leave is practically an invitation, and eventually he’ll get sick of my shit and bail just like everyone else. And I wouldn’t blame him, because at this point I don’t want to be around me, why the fuck would he?
When did it get like this? Everything was so okay. How did this happen? And more importantly, where do I even begin in trying to fix it?
…yeah, okay, this is definitely why I’m on the meds in the first place, okie fucking dokie.
I’m not afraid to die. But it’s easy to be unafraid when I’ve only died and returned. How do I reconcile that one day I’ll be gone for good, that one day they’ll have forgotten all about me, that this lab might not even be here. All his research. All our work. It won’t even matter one day. And that drives me absolutely insane.
I just feel so…it’s beyond insignificant, it is so beyond insignificant and I know that right now, even though I don’t feel like it, I do matter. I’ve got people who need me. A few, but enough I guess. But that won’t always be the case and it drives me completely mental.
Maybe I’m thinking too much…
((*whispers* I’ll be back, yo))
i feel bad for being such a shit boyfriend and not a very good friend either.
I want to fix it but I don’t know how without trying to be something I’m not.
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