She’s right, I am all or nothing.
It feels good or it doesn’t. And if it doesn’t feel good now, it must never have felt good.
Laying next to me like a stranger instead of holding me like a friend. It isn’t his fault. I’m sure it’s mine. It always is. Right?
Tonight did not feel good. That must mean he doesn’t love me, he doesn’t care. I guess he never really did.
I’m no stranger to nights like this, where darkness leads to distance instead of bridging the gap. But I can’t sleep in the loneliness. I can’t succumb to the demons of my nightmares without the safety of love first.
So tonight, I do not sleep.
No love, no safety, no sleep.
All or nothing.
I feel broken in the emptiness. I don’t feel safe when I’m alone. And tonight, alone is the only way to feel.
And don’t ask me why, because I really don’t have an answer.
Maybe he was tired, maybe he had a bad day, maybe he tried his best, or maybe he just hates me. Maybe he finally realized I’m the unlovable piece of shit I’ve been trying to convince him that I am.
And maybe it’s just how I’m feeling, and it has nothing to do with him.
Yet, still. Here I lay, while he sleeps miles away right next to me.
Sleep doesn’t come to the lonely, the abandoned…the terrified.
Sleep doesn’t come if you don’t let it.
The nightmares can’t get me if I don’t agree to meet them.
Tomorrow can’t begin if today doesn’t end. So, maybe, it just doesn’t have to. And tomorrow, I’ll blame him for my sleepless night. He knows I can’t sleep like this. Without him. Without love. Alone.
Self sabotage? Why not. But it’s better than……..
But, she’s right. I live in the all or nothing. And since tonight didn’t feel good, I know that means he doesn’t love me.
And that means that he’ll never love me again, and that things are going to turn bad again.
That’s what it means, right? One mildly uncomfortable night with no real problem other than the feeling of distance between us, and that means it’s over. That means we’re done.
That means he hates me, and he’s going to treat me badly forever.
Of course that’s what that means.
Or maybe, maybe that’s just the trauma. Maybe that’s the PTSD, convinced that everything bad repeats itself eventually.
Tonight felt bad. It felt distant. He doesn’t love me. He must hate me now. Things will be bad forever. No one loves me because I am truly unlovable.
All or nothing. Every time.
My head is a fucked up place to be trapped in.