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SadKnight

The hedge knight
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And every time I see you now i feel myself deeper down in the mud.

I am out of touch, out of synch, drowning in oil, unable to swim.

I lost you, my life, my friends, my will, my everything.

It is all wasted, all gone, I am thirsty but it won't quench.

I feel needy and lonely, and the more I pull the farther everyone seems.

I feel pushed to the corner, I feel set aside, I miss you but I can't get nearby.

The only way I find to vent is to write these depressive moans.

And after I publish the regret comes.

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I live in our house, I sleep in our bed, I watch our TV, I eat in our table, I cook in our kitchen, I dream with our life. I cry at our pictures. I know I am lucky and privileged for everything else I have, but I'd gladly give it all away right now for a chance to be with you again.

I understand this probably had to happen because I had to clean my shit. It's just so so so so so so so so so so so damn hard.

I had it all in you. I miss you so bad. I love you.

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Stereotype

2 min read

I keep seeing this stereotype of men on media. Are we the ones to always mess up and then regret? Why did i obligue myself to that? How did i end up being such a cliché? I have many times considered myself better than other men (hah! Nice psychologycal trait) but i have always been so messed up on emotional stuff. Why am i like this? What is the reason i find it so hard to enjoy a damn normal relationship i keep needing to push my significant others away and finding ways to break things up?

How can i even hope for her to build her trust in me again after all the times i have messed up? All she did was provide a noble, trustful, caring, playful and forgiving love to me and i paid her back in the worst possible ways.

I am working with my therapist on getting over these things, and it is amazingly simple what you need to do: fucking THINK. Just think about what the fuck you are doing, and specially WHY are you doing it, and then start digging there, no matter what the ugly and disgusting you find there. Just better do it before it is too late.

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Jingle hells

2 min read

The pain, it does not end yet. I guess I must forgive me first, but I've done so much wrong, I can't find the strength to do that. I've become paranoid of others, shaky and crumbling. A stranger on my own body. I am the person I don't want to be, but the one my regretful heart allows me to. For sure this is not the person she would want to be with, which takes me further below.

Every time I see her firm and strong, I feel weaker and smaller. Was I only standing tall because I was on her shoulders? I was not like this before. I should be able to be better. She has outgrown me so much I may not be able to make her love me again, but I can be better than this shade of myself.

I can't see myself being happy without her, but I need to try to be to bring back what actually made her love me if I want to have a chance, and if that does not happen, at least I'll have part of myself back.

I'm wasting therapy money asking questions about her when I should maybe be asking questions about myself.

This is going to be a very long Christmas.

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I feel like I am not allowed to be sad right now. I feel judged by everyone, even myself. I am the architect of my own destruction. Do I have the right to feel as I do when it is my own doing? Can I feel angry at who I have betrayed myself? Can I call me a decent person while crying over a love I alone have wasted? How does one get over what they have messed up? How can I have so many people supporting me and feel so alone at the same time? How can I even forgive myself for hurting so much who loved me the most? I have been so wrong, so emotionally immature, so naive with myself, so self indulgent... I've not only been like this but also been oblivious to the emotional needs of the people around me, who are now also supporting me, which only makes me feel even worse. I find it hard to stop crying. I can't find joy with anything and I need to write this somewhere . I am crying out for the attention I know I don't deserve. Even writing this only makes me loathsome to myself.

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