What could, well, nevermind. What could become of something which, well, nevermind. How is someone expected to feel when they learn, despite how much they need to believe that what happened is good for them, that they were never loved by someone who took from them everything they could possibly take.
God, how must it feel to realize that you were abused!
I wish I could tell you.
I don't know how to tell, but I'll try to fumble my way through this fog of inebriation to give at least a slight impression of how it feels:
A;LL;OISDJF;LKHNASD;GLKHVS;DIJCGSKL;DFNGLSKDHFGVL;SIUDHFCGLKVJXNCFKGVJSN;DRFUGHS;DKRFNBL;SKDXFJNCG;VSKDZFHG;VSDHFG;SKDHF;VKSXDNFC;GKLVZXHEDNFOIGHSN;DRKFNGV;SDKFJCNV;SDXKLFJHNG;VSDIUFNG;VSIDRNF;KLVXNDF;LKGVNSD;LFKICGHJVSODIRJFG;VSLIDJNRF;GLBSKND;FKJNBV;SDXFKLVJN;A S HF;OASIURNV;KLENVIUOSDHFJ;GHSERD;KGVN;SKLCIHJV;SDRFHG;SEKRLHN;VSKNDFCG;VSDKFH
That couldn't even marginally approximate the real sensation of being torn asunder. You don't understand. When in a month I am bald perhaps you'll understand how much being blamed for being abusive when you were truly, truly, the one who was abused will make you pull your fucking hair out.
The worst part is that I'm sitting here, drunk on a tuesday night, obsessing about this. It's pathetic. I guess she did eventually get the best of me.
Fuck eventuality.
I have half a mind to do so many terrible things. It's a goddamned shame I don't have even a quarter-mind to do just one good thing.
So, yeah, beside all of that, I have not much. So, if I have not much beside that, I have nothing. So it goes.
I'm willing, perhaps too willing, to admit my shortcomings.
Goddamnit.
Nevermind.
I'm sorry.
I'm always sorry.
So, nevermind.
[December 7, 2006. Addendum: I suppose it truly is a blessing that, however sad it may make me, no one ever does really read this blog. I say stupid things when I'm drunk. I mean, I don't say any dishonest or untrue things, but they are stupid nonetheless.]
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