Tortures of the damned

Someone says I worry too much. Someone says I still need help. I wonder if I ever got help or if I just pulled myself up. I'm guessing it's the latter. I never got a diagnosis, I just got guesses. That's all my life has ever been - guesses. No one ever had a definitive answer what was wrong with me and therefor no one had an answer as to what made me happy. Everyone knew there was something wrong, but no one, not even me, knew what. It's like I've been walking around with a bleeding wound all my life but no one had a bandage for me.

What makes you happy? What gets you going? I got a comment in private about this blog, how I completely put myself out there with my stories, but "you still keep the reader wondering what happened then." I'm curious about you. Tell me what makes you happy.

I need to know that I am an option. No matter how far away, no matter how complicated it may seem, I need to know that I'll be taken into consideration. Being safe isn't love.

I don't have words. Well, they're as scared as me and they won't come forward right now. I would never hurt you. You know I wouldn't. You know all this already but I'm still not sure if I'm writing for you or for me. I guess I'm writing to make my heart stop screaming. Hey, heart, shut up. Enough. I heard you. I know, I know what you mean but I can't tell you everything I wish for.

What's there left to say? That I wish you were mine and not hers? You know that, you know that very well. I miss you.

I wish I could walk away from here telling an amazing love story.

As always, I end up being the one that gets too emotional. This is for real, and I have no intention of forcing you to make a choice you don't want to make. You won't read this until I'm gone so here, I can tell you that I love you.

When this all started I tried to distance myself from the feelings that I was feeling but the more time that passed, the more evident it became that what I was trying was an impossible task. There's no hiding now, I can't hide anymore. I don't blame you, or myself, because it made me so incredibly happy. I was happy for the first time since.. a very long time, thanks to you. Thank you.

I wish I got to you first. I'm sorry I didn't. There's some things I can't say here, for several reasons, but I want to say them, so loud, so bright, but they're too mean. I'm not mean. I'm the one who always adjusts. I'm the one who won't really say what she wants, because I put other peoples happiness in front of mine. However, this time I don't know who I'm making happy. It's not myself, and I don't think it's you either.

I'm very aware of how very rambling and blurry this will sound to anyone but myself, and possibly you. I just want you to know that I would have/could have made you happy. Very happy. I still would if you asked me. I'd be yours. I'd love you.