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A mistake?

There are times when I feel like maybe I made a mistake. Like maybe I should give it all another shot. Maybe THIS time it might work.

But then I remember how I felt like a failure, like I wasn’t worth anything, like – even thought I was working my ass of – my job just didn’t matter, like I wasn’t free to be me, like I couldn’t speak my mind and say “it’s 12.30am, its Wednesday, I have to be at work at 7.30, stop playing computer games really loudly and tell your friends to f**k off home for once”, like my friends and family didn’t matter because you only ever saw them once or twice a year and got me to lie on the other occasions about why you weren’t there, and like the fact you hated me, and told me so, was my fault, because I was useless and weak and annoying for asking for help.

I remember the fear I felt walking down the corridor sometimes because I couldn’t remember if I had forgotten to tidy something up or do all of the dishes, and wondering if I would get yelled at for not doing them, or just get the silent treatment, or get them smashed all over the flat and have to buy more because it was my birthday and you cant have friends over for birthday tea with out crockery. And I remember the friends that I stopped speaking to because they were boys and your insecurities couldn’t handle them in my life, even though they had been there longer than you.

I remember the despair and the feeling of just wanting to vanish, just to get in my car and rive off, and i had it planned, i could be in france before anyone would know i was gone, and really have no-one know where I was, because then I could start again.

You keep saying you’ll change. But even if you do, I might not be able to get over the way that you’ve made me feel these last two years.

And how can you get over it? How can you forgive me for the words i said. how can you forgive yourself?

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Thanks for stopping by and reading my ramblings. I hope to see you again soon.