Defeat

I keep bouncing around. I keep coming back to blank pages I can’t fill. I keep staring at my ceiling with white noise in my ears. I can’t talk. I can’t read. I can’t write. I lay in my bed. And bite my nails until my fingers bleed. I feel dizzy, lightheaded. Weak. I’m not hungry but I eat, lest the food goes bad. I breathe. And then stop breathing. And then breathe again. 

The argument destroyed me. And now I don’t know how to rebuild. I am exhausted. For once in my life, I want everything to stop being a constant fight. I want things to be easy, smooth. I need my life not to feel like I have to fight to survive with my mental health intact. I am tired of fighting, but if I have to keep going I want to fight for something meaningful, not my basic well-being. 

The argument destroyed me and suddenly my life is upside down. Nothing makes much sense now. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear. I don’t want to be here. But I don’t want to go home and pretend. This time I will lose myself for good. 

The cat wasn’t just a cat. The cat was me. And that is not going away anytime soon. The cat was me and I chose him. But there was really no other choice. The relationship is going to fail. I know it. He knows it. But we both need it. So we drag our feet and wait. This time it won’t be me. This time he needs to do it. But he won’t just yet. And I’ll go home and we’ll be happy in our little bubble, for a while. And then it will burst. And we’ll both crush to the ground.