I wish I could put into words all of the things I'm feeling. I have neither the time nor the ability. My head is not in the clouds, there are no butterflies in my stomach, the sense of something new and intriguing and so forth has worn off.

Underneath that is something amazingly beautiful. Someone who sees me, rather than what they want to see or expect to see. Someone who understands that physical touch is merely an echo, a vague and shallow representation of what exists.

No matter how I write it, it won't sound quite right to me. So I think I'll simply stop.

strangle

I'm never going to be free of him. It's been 10 years, and there are still vestiges and remainders and things that I cannot free myself of at this point. The past has a stranglehold on me that I struggle to break, but may not be able to.

I feel strangled - more so even than when he had his hands around my throat with rage and hatred in his eyes. He said he'd kill me; I believed him. Sometimes, I wonder if it wouldn't have been for the best - my future remains tethered to my past until I can fight my way clear.

I know, intellectually, I will eventually be free - of the things I put my signature to, and the man (boy. monster.) for whom I did so. It still breaks my heart to realize how much of my life has been paid out to him, in tears, blood, money, heartache.

I just want it over with - I wish we'd never met. Except that without that meeting, things would be so different I would not know the man I know today. Would not love him or have him in my life. I would not have that - but sometimes I still wish for a freedom that I wonder if I will ever have.

"Everything's falling and I am included in that..."

There is something beautiful about this; about us. There's no label, no real discussion of one, and I find myself curious but otherwise uncaring. I don't care what the rest of the world thinks, because I have found a place in the world that feels like home.

Physical touch is only a mere shadow; only an extension of the things that lie in the heart. It's good to finally not only understand, but be able to live by that. I don't feel as if we'll lose one another if things don't progress to a point that I think neither of us really wants yet. More accurately, I don't feel as if I have to submit to the physical side of things to keep him by my side. Neither of us would have that, and there's an innocence to us that I hope we never lose.

duality

I may have reclaimed a bit of my privacy - things are ironed out, I suppose. Or at least, they're ironed out enough that I can feel comfortable writing again.

I waver on the edge of elation and frustration, for entirely different reasons. The frustration is simple, I'm having what are rapidly becoming huge issues with my roommate. At this juncture, she owes me in the range of $800, the end of the month is coming up, at which point she'll owe me even more, and her bank account balance is in the negative because she's utterly fiscally irresponsible. If I could afford to live here on my own, we'd have parted ways as roommates by now, though most likely not as friends.

Elation...this sense of belonging and acceptance. Neither of us is perfect, neither of us has our head in the clouds, and neither of us is running. Even when we might want to, we fight to stay because we know that once the feeling passes we'll be right back to where we normally are. He sees me - understands what I'm about and who I am, and accepts me, although he's not afraid to tell me when he disapproves of or does not like something I've done. He is one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, and I am continually humbled by his presence. That's not to say he's on a pedestal - he's not perfect and I see that and accept it. There's a difference between being perfect, and being potentially perfect for me...

dark

I woke up in the kind of mood where my biggest struggle of the day will be not to hurt myself or anyone else. My temper is out of control and I'm praying that said mood lightens before I have to actually deal with anyone.

A few months ago, when things were dark enough that I truly wanted to kill myself, a friend of mine - knowing the password because I'd needed something at some point and felt confident in sharing it with him - went into my email account and downloaded my entire phone's contact list so he could reach someone if he felt I was going to do something to myself. He thinks I should be grateful; appreciative.

I can, to a degree, understand his actions, but I can't forgive the breach of trust. I understand the desire to protect the people you care about; I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing, at the time. The problem is that on my end, it feels like an absolute invasion of my privacy and sense of autonomy. Knowing that I have nothing whatsoever that is considered mine, and mine alone, and not to be breached or used or taken. Emotionally, it actually set me back, rather than helping in any way, and he doesn't understand - or care to try to understand - why that's the case. Setting aside that none of the people he could have called would have had the capacity to do any good whatsoever in a reasonable time frame, there's the fact that I already frequently struggle with feeling like I have nothing whatsoever that is mine and mine alone, and this underscored that.

I am a fanatic about how I dole out information about myself; I value my privacy and space above almost everything, and to have the modicum of trust I'd placed in him out of necessity breached so that he could feel like he might be able to do something is fairly unforgivable. I'd be able to let it go and forget it happened if not for two things: first, it has been months since that point, yet he refuses to divest himself of the information, which I've asked him to do repeatedly. Second, he thinks my view of this is unreasonable and that I should be grateful and appreciative of what he did in his efforts to "help" me. I suppose there's a third - that he used the information to insist that if I didn't talk to him about what was going on in my head that he would start making phone calls, and I would have to talk to someone about it.

I'm furious, hurt, and feel betrayed and held hostage by what is rightfully my own information - not something that he should ever have had access to; I feel that I can no longer write freely, speak freely, or think freely. He reads my journal, and while I asked him not to, I can place absolutely no faith in that possibility. So what happens if I have a day where everything is dark enough that I need to write about things that I won't do, and he takes it that I will and contacts my family or someone else? Not what I need, not what I want, and certainly not something I'd ever have expected of him, until now.

I am at the point where I am so angry and frustrated and hurt by his actions that I have blocked his phone number from both my mobile and house phones, and am refusing to speak with him. I want nothing to do with him unless he can see my point of view with a modicum of understanding, and unless he is willing to give me back what little privacy I have. Even saying that makes me angrier - the thought that I must ask for my own privacy back, and that it is up to someone else's whims.

There's more guiding my mood today, but I feel...incapable of writing any of it. I am wary of putting any of my thoughts into any kind of coherent form, because I cannot trust or believe that nothing will happen.

One sentence from our last argument echoes in my head - he accused me of being crazy. Not of having been crazy, but of being crazy, because I did not agree with his point of view, or see that what he did was right and acceptable.

I don't know as I want or have the capacity to be friends with anyone who openly refuses to even attempt to see things from my point of view, and who continually insists upon their rightness without even considering the other person's feelings. This isn't the first time he's been this way about something, but I'm realizing it just may be the last, when it comes to him doing it in my life. I cannot handle having someone like him in my life - it's destructive and painful and as much as it hurts to let go of the one person I considered my best friend, it may be healthier and safer and saner for me in the end. If nothing else, I can regain some sense of self and space and distance from others - which is something I need desperately. I sometimes feel like a live wire, vibrating with a dangerous current, and the only thing that will make that sense of rawness and energy dissipate is time spent utterly alone with my own thoughts, and without the world looking in and worrying or trying to help.

At the same time, I miss the sense of home and safety I had when N. was around - 39 more days until I see him again, and every day I seem to fall to pieces and put myself back together again. I won't say I need him or that this is simply an addiction I'm using to get myself through; neither is the truth. All I can say is that he lets me be myself, and manages to help when I'm crumbling.

Decisions

I'm avoiding making a decision I absolutely have to make. To return to my current job and be miserable, or to leave and struggle while I try to get this off the ground. It's scary - either way will be hard. The hardest part is leaving the security of my salary - a good amount; I'm definitely financially comfortable while I'm employed there. The problem is that I'm so utterly miserable that I have a hard time picturing myself returning at all, let alone the 6 or so months it would take to set things up so that I was completely settled.

It's just that I'm scared not to go back, as well. I'm scared of struggling, financially - I've become used to being comfortable, and admittedly, there are some things I need to pay off in order to feel one hundred percent comfortable with how things will work going forward.

Even the process of deciding is taking its toll - the thought of returning makes me feel ill, but the thought of not returning long enough to absolutely ensure that things are financially secure worries me a fair amount. I wish I could foresee the future - both potentials. I wish I knew if I'd be okay if I didn't return, or as miserable as I think I'll be if I do.

Part of me wants to say screw it, and go back for about 6 to 8 months, then leave, having saved every last cent I can. Another part of me wants to forget the idea entirely - to simply bite the bullet and have faith that things will work out. I simply do not know - for once in my life I am completely and utterly unsure of either option being the best one for me.

I can't even write here freely. I miss my ip tracker and the ability to lock an entry down, because I'd be doing a fair bit of that going forward.

I hate to resort to the old method - politely mention to someone they shouldn't be reading, and then...trust they won't.

I'm really not that girl. Must figure something out, because now...what I have to say is for myself and anonymity.