I trust, I treasure, I idealise.
I hope, I want, I see a beautiful future.
It dies. I bleed. My heart rips apart. I think I’m gonna die.
Zizek once said he was going to kill himself over a lost love but first, he had a book to write. I have 2 little cats who love me. A family. Friends. I don’t wanna die. But, damn, that dark pull. That voice that whispers, they’ll be better off without YOU.
So, I talk to people. My ex is being wonderful. He forgives despite the unforgivable and wants to be life-long friends. My family gets me. My friends listen, they don’t judge. They understand the feels that made me name this blog Night Gardenia.
I just spent 20 hours in bed. Internal monologue: I wanna die/I don’t wanna die.
I fear people don’t care. Someone can I say “I love you” 1000 times and it doesn’t resonate. I think, I AM HATED. It lingers.
Am I reprehensible? I am not sure. I know I am flawed. I know I am human. Perhaps it is OK?
I came out as bisexual to my mother. Long time coming…20 years. Long time to be a fraud. I’m scared. I know queer people are vilified, despised. But nothing is compared to my internal monologue.
I miss my cats. I miss my books. I hate what I am. I try to accept what is. Can I? Time will tell.