How's that for fucked up?
So I see myself doing this same thing, again, with Heather. The one person I prayed would escape my dumb ways my brain works. I thought she had. I thought it was all going to be oh kay. We made it past six months without anything, past seven, past eight. But now, nearly to nine, I find myself doing it. And I hate myself for it.
The temptation of just giving up, before everything gets worse, is so alluring.
But I wont give up. I cant.
Perhaps it will get better now, seeing as I understand what is going on. Maybe I can fight it. But I have no idea why I do it. I have no idea how it happens. But I'll fight to my death, if I have to.
A war against myself, to save something that holds so much uncertainty. There's no telling when or if she'll decide that this is not what she wants. There is a very slim chance that this will last more than a few years. But I'll fight, just to feel that feeling I get from knowing her. From being with her.
This is all so complicated. So fucked up. And really, it's all my fault. She has done nothing. This is all on me.
I could ruin everything...
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