Have you ever cried and laughed for no reason? Mostly because nothing is happening… Nothing sad or happy.
Well, today was one of those days.
And then fate decided to give me a reason to be sad. I think R is happy with his new life, with his new girl.
I think I don’t fit in anymore. I think it’s time I moved on. But I’m not able to. I want to. I wish nothing but happiness for him… But what about me?
Bastard S! I will take revenge. I do will.
Watching a series called The bold type. It’s a fun story about 3 friends and their life. I miss having friends. So I called up Prat. We chatted for a bit, laughed, bitched, had fun.
I’m glad I have her in my life. I know she’s always got my back.
To friendship…
Another day of swiping and I still haven’t found anyone. My FWB isn’t working out the way I thought it would. So many right swipes, I wonder who will be left.
And anyway I was out searching for a relationship. At some point I’m hoping to have someone I can call when I want. Or someone who calls me… Atleast thinks of me. Asks me out on a proper date. I want to be that girl. I deserve to be that girl.
I’m regressing. Want to cut. Want to be hospitalized. Want to just sleeeeep. And wake up once I’m better.
Can’t do my usual hotel stay. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to eat meds and feel better. I don’t want to live in a medically induced comatose life.
I miss living. Meeting therapist coming week. Hopefully I’ll feel better. Else my pills will have company. More pills. Yaaaay!
Ma thinks I’m indulging myself too much by not sleeping on time like I had started to a while back. A good routine, exercise, sensible behaviour…
If I were to indulge myself, my hand would be in 15 pieces. That’s how badly I want to cut myself.
I’m doing my best to control myself. I’m dealing with R moving on, with loneliness, with company being on hold and financially being dependant on R…
I had a plan. Eyes on the prize. Atleast for 2 years. But he looks so happy. So relaxed despite the stress at work. This relationship is doing him good.
I’m too much to deal with. The unpredictability, the stress, the intensity of emotions… I know. But what do I do?
His hair is becoming thicker. For fuck’s sake!! How does that even happen. K is leaving for Germany. I’m happy for him… He’ll get to be with the wife. But I’m back to being friendless. Nish is too busy to even answer calls or respond to msgs. Only mine. She and Ri seem to have hit it off really well. So well…
Book did well. So that’s there. Happy about that. I think. I don’t know anymore.
Am I indulging myself? I’m so lost. I want to cut so badly. I want the pain to reduce. I really can’t handle this. I’m so so tired.
My mom doesn’t think I’m brave. Or bold. Hahaha… Funny, isn’t it? She walked out of a marriage and that makes her an expert? She thinks I’m not free spirited. Says that’s what I want to be. Or portray myself as being… But I’m not.
Yup. I’m grounded to reality. That’s who I am. Grounded, weak and a loser.
Good job, ma.
I’ve had so many relationships, I’ve lost count. Why? What was I searching for? And every single time I fell in love. Atleast thought I did. Earnestly. And every single time I got hurt. Even if I am the one who broke it off… Which was the case mostly. I know they wouldn’t work. They weren’t meant to. But I still loved. With my naive stupid gullible heart. I craved for validation and attention from them. For love and dependence. Coz without them depending on me… Why will I feel important right? Not wanted… Dependent. Know the difference?
Other than these “relationships” I think I’ve slept with a lot of men. Why? I’m not really crazy about sex. And other than maybe 3 people, everyone wasn’t even great. Then why??
What is wrong with me? I always know I’ll break up. I’ll run away. I’ll bore. Why then tag someone along and hurt them?
Flirtatious bitch!
I need to start taking count. I need to be held accountable. I need to… I don’t know what I need to. I need to stop. Just stop. Enough. Just fucking stop.
Off to therapy once again. After almost a 4 month break. I realised that I can’t confide or talk openly to someone I’m close to. And I had become close to my doctor. Emotionally…
This break helped. Shall now think of her ONLY as a doctor. Not someone I like. Earlier there were days I’d cry my heart out at home, and crave for her. To hold me. Console me. She had become a mother figure. Transference of some sort I guess.
But no more. I shall talk. Confide. Emote. Deal with my past. I shall not waste any more time.
I cheered up. Considerably. Was active, cheerful, functional. Hell more than functional. Made food, cleared up, made people around me happy…
2 days.
And I’m back where it started. Fuck. What’s the point. Are these 2 day gaps the point? Enjoy the periods of normalcy you get… Remember them for the times you need support. Is that it?
Fuck fuck fuck.
Does noone get it?
My family sure doesn’t. They have reduced all this down to “mood swings”. That’s exactly what I have… Mood swings.
They confuse someone’s “personality” with my condition. Oh… Even he is lazy. Or she gets mood swings. Or they don’t like crowds.
Fuck. That’s just laziness or PMS or introverts.
I’m not. I’m a loner. I hate people. They breathe my air. I’ve to breathe what they exhale. Even one person in a giant room. I like sitting in my cupboard. But I don’t fit anymore. I like doing nothing. Spacing out.
But then… I’m also lonely. Sad. Depressed. Suicidal. Crying about the time I’m losing out.
I miss her. I miss C. My unborn child. My boochi. I miss all of them.
I hate this month. Fucking hate it!
It’s going to be 2 years. Just 20 more days and it’ll be 2 years since THAT DAY.
The day I had an abortion, my pet died and my best friend died.
The day after which I… I don’t know. I just lost myself. To deal with shit I had moved to Goa. Stayed with her for half a year. Lived. Planned our future together. We both were equally messed up. Needed each other.
We had dreams. Aspirations. And we were going to push each other to achieve them.
And then she died. Took my unborn and my boochi with her. Selfish bitch. She left me. Who gave her permission to die. To leave me.
Dammit! It’s been 2 years. Fucking 2 years crying over it. I need to let her move on. I NEED to move on. It’s time. It’s high time.
A bipolar diary 