I’ve written this post and deleted it so many times over the past few days.
I don’t know how to say what I need to say.
No, that’s not true. I know exactly how to say it. For once, I know how I feel. Or at least I know the initial, gut reaction to how I feel.
But I can’t feel that way. I’m so filled with….I don’t even know. I think it’s mostly fear. I’m scared shitless that things are going to go horribly wrong…and I’m not equipped to deal with it.
If you knew nothing of my story, you might think how I feel is “wrong”. If you lived my life…if you knew the story I was thinking of…you’d know that my initial feelings are completely justified. Maybe not right, but justified.
It boils down to fear. I can see that. This isn’t a story I want to tell, but it’s fucking eating me alive.
It’s become an inescapable reality, one I know I can not, WILL not, live with.
Every single internal instinct that I have is fighting against each other. I feel like I’m in such emotional turmoil that it’s making me sick. I hate this.
This battle with myself…the very strong, real feelings that I feel…
It’s wrong. Or at least…Maybe I’m just telling myself that it’s wrong because I feel so horrible about it.
I don’t know how to tell this story, because I’m fucking hoping with every single fiber of my being that this isn’t a story that needs to be told…that it simply just doesn’t exist.
I wish I could talk about this. I need to feel better about it. This doesn’t feel okay, it doesn’t feel right…I just feel so fucking lost.
I need this to be okay…or at the very least, I need to feel okay for feeling like this.