Strange.

Since the whole thing revolves around sex and erotic behavior, and every erotic drawing, thought, text, or whatever reminds me of the black days. How the hell am I still attracted to her?

And I’m attracted more and more every day .. is this love?

I’m hurt, yet I feel that this same topic with her feels .. comforting.

I’m shattered. I swear. Never have I ever been this hurt or felt this bad. Down. Now I have to act it up in front of people. To avoid and concerns or questions, I have to laugh, joke, and fake me body language.

I really have so much to say .. to ask .. though no one listens and no one will answer me. I’m alone in this, and probably will always will be.

Post-therapy Day 1 Session 2

So here’s the second session for the day. I had a quick drive to pick up something and came back. Apparently driving alone, with the view of sand around me, seeing typical cars driven by the type of scum I have in mind, and the heat, all brought shitty thoughts again.

I’ll be doing this for sometime now, the exercise I mean. I don’t know if this is right or will actually help, but I’m grasping for air. In any place. With anything. This session didn’t do much to help. But all I’m doing now is the exercise itself.

I have no idea how I’ll force myself to stop thinking but in a controlled timeframe.

Post-therapy Day 1 Session 1

I spoke to a therapist yesterday. I didn’t hear a lot of new things, mostly reaffirming of what I know and what I did. That might be a bit a relief. A tiny bit.

I don’t know if the exercises I was given will help. It is already something I am doing, but it a controlled timing.

I still imagine her being undressed. Laying somewhere. Bed, sofa, poolside maybe? And that scum doing what he did. It wasn’t a one time thing which means it was planned for and meant. She wanted it. Several times. 2-3 times means 3 times. No one forgets stuff like this. It kept on happening and only God knows why it stopped.

Did she enjoy it really as our sex life is? Or what is because she had the irresistible urge to please someone and her being unable to say no? Was she blackmailed? Was it money? Did she enjoy it physically or not? When it was happening, did she enjoy it mentally because she was tired?

I still imagine and hear the moans, see the thrusting and movement. How did it end? Inside? Outside? Hands? Mouth? Tissues used? Stood up to the bathroom? What was the first word said after washing up? Where did they sit after doing it and washing up?

Close to each other? Far away? Or did she just stay close to him after sex as that is what she likes? To feel safe and intimate? What the fuck was it?

I can’t help it.

Void of joy.

It seems nothing that I do now has any taste or sense of joy. I only do what I do now because it is what I’m used to. I’ve been stripped of all my senses. Especially the ones that make me enjoy life .. what I do.

I have a moral responsibility towards my family and friends to keep functioning as I always was. Though hard, but I try my best not to let what I feel get in the way.

What I wish for now is the complete opposite of what I do. A swift, deadly, silent stop that makes me cease to exist is all I want. Perhaps I might be remembered in a good way.

Everything I now see, hear, experience, remember, or think of is excruciating. A throbbing pain and burning every time that thought crosses my mind. Now it just sinks deeper and deeper.

History.

It’s gotten so bad that I now don’t want to look at old photos – anything between 2015 and mid 2017.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand why. During this period of time, others were enjoying this face. A face of another person who’s changed not so much of what I see gladly everyday.

But that old face reminds of what was happening during that time. A face others saw, before me, in many different ways. A beautiful face but not angelic and pure. I always noted that look she had. Even before.

I now hate hot weather, beachside, chalets and sea activities. God knows what happened before. My blood boils when she mentions sea or chalet. I just imagine – hell, remember – a long drive on a road with sand on both sides, with music playing in the car, and a notifications coming every now and then. With a face not so angelic, knowingly and willingly going and driving somewhere. To .. be fucked by an asshole only god knows what she thought about.

Then after she’d arrive, she’d park. Maybe he would be standing outside giving her directions. Next up she might open the door next to her or the rear one and pick up her hand bag. Well it is summertime. Tan? Maybe? Special lingerie? Toys? Maybe a photo shoot by the seaside or a swimming pool?

Yeah. Just hearing the world “chalet” brings this all up and I haven’t even started yet.

I might be acting normal again right now, doing my daily chores, eating and staying active again. Deep down inside .. it’s a mess. I know I won’t heal. I’ll never be myself again, to myself.

Fuck life.

Did I?

I lost what I never had, yet it hurts just as bad.

I’m not sure if always had actual peace of mind, but I have now literally lost it. All of it. I have to endure this for the rest of my life. A permanent feeling that will never go away.

Ever.

How will I cope? I don’t know. But all I know is that I will. Hopefully neither me nor anyone will take that for granted. He he’s all normal again.

I don’t know if I’m feeling better now, but staying away from the cause .. what did all this .. feels like I am being pulled away from something I should be close to, even if it kills me to do so.

I’m being torn to pieces but I don’t know if it’s just me doing this to myself. No, not me. At least not me alone.

Here I am, writing. Not knowing who might be reading it when. But if you are reading, comment with two dots .. you know what they mean. Or maybe write what those two dots of yours represent.

If I overcome this,as if everything, with all its details never happened, I will be proud of myself. For real, the very first time in my life. Probably the only time I will be of myself.

Looking at my days, all I need is sleeping for 2 hours straight. Noting more. I may have lied a few days ago, I still have problems making our color with my vision.

Even when asked about the burger, I replied with something else about its color. I never said it was red or the usual, but I did say the red one had more spices. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Keeping stuff to myself without slipping.

God .. why ..

Lost.

I feel lost. I no longer know what to do. Everything feels empty. I feel empty. Shattered. My mind no longer functions properly. I’m imagining stuff around me. Seeing things that aren’t there.

And this dream .. this fucking nightmare .. of 4 people .. and me alive in a dug grave. It’s after sunset, I can only see silhouettes of characters I know who they are .. one of them is whom I love .. throwing dirt on me to bury me alive.

Today the dream went on for a bit longer .. there was a big group behind those four people. I didn’t see them, I didn’t know them. But in the dream, I know they were there. It’s eating my brain everyday.

No one listens to me. No one is hearing me.

Choices.

And here I am .. was .. torn between to painful choices. Leaving; losing a love one .. and the pain of what I already know ..

Staying; enduring the pain of what I know for the rest of my life, and the exhaustion that will accompany it.

I am a fighter .. my breathe is deep .. that’s what I chose .. staying .. till the end .. eventually. Be it if old age .. an illness long hoped for, I hope for soon.

Lying.

Ever had someone lie to your face with you knowing that they lie? When this happens, I trusts the urge to throw the nearest and most dangerous object into their face. But for some reason, I win, and I finish up building my “case”.

She lied to me – several times – as I sat there listening. She still is.

Just when I started to feel a tiny bit better, lies flow in.

Does she really think I’m dumb? Stupid? Or simply too kind? So far, I haven’t even confronted her with me knowing that she’s said anything but the fucking truth to me.

I’m a reasonable man. But I do have a lot of self respect. Though a certain issue (I’m still discovering how disgusting and big it is) is closed – to her -, my new issue is lying – which I will not tolerate.

I stand by my word of not digging anymore as long as what I hear from her is the ultimate truth. But if new stuff is discovered, floats from the past, and given the chance was not mentioned, that will be a moment of serious dealing.

Imagine, just imagine, a loved one taking you for granted – lying to your face, no matter the reason. True love means sharing your sins as they were mostly uncovered. But toning it down, insisting on lying and covering up .. results in doubts.

I don’t think of suicide not I ever will. But I sure wish death right now. I wish death much more than I wanted to get married.

At least I die, sadly, alone, be gone of pathetic lies to my face. People will be hurt, but that is the way of life.