Rollercoaster
Okay, this day is a real emotional rollercoaster.
I fucking want to burn everything down. But I am crying so hard that I probably wouldn’t even be able to set it on fire. I could cry a fuckin’ river.
I am so fuckin’ done with all this shit.
When you live with someone for years and then realize everything was built on fuckin’ lies. The person you thought you would spend your fuckin’ life with didn’t even know you.
I have no fuckin’ words for that.
Not like it wasn’t already over or I still wanted anything from it. But even the nice memories became as dark as the illusion of hope that was never really there.
It was never me who was loved, but someone I don’t even know.
Did anyone ever even know me? Just a little?
Did anyone ever fuckin’ listen to me?
Did anyone ever actually care about me?
Did anyone ever care who the fuck I am?
Or did everyone just want to put me in a fuckin’ box I never fit into?!
Have I ever had a connection where someone actually wanted to know me? At least tried?
At least fuckin’ tried?
When the one I thought was the love of my life didn’t even know the basics about me…
Honestly, what the fuck am I still doing here, in this place?
Everyone has one fuckin’ assumption about me and then they stop. Like I were a one-layer sponge cake when I am fuckin’ layered pancakes.
I don’t know.
Why the fuck haven’t I left yet?
I don’t even understand why I didn’t leave so long ago…
Why I tried to fix everything even when it hurt me. Just because I didn’t want to have a blended family…
I should have been gone so long ago, and maybe I wouldn’t have had this mental breakdown if I hadn’t tried to fix everything and had focused only on fixing myself and my broken soul.
Of course I couldn’t heal when I was carrying someone else’s emotional burden. When I should have been loved and nurtured and carried.
Of course I became a fuckin’ hedgehog. When I was fuckin’ cut open and traumatized for a lifetime. I wished I had died during childbirth. I just wanted to fuckin’ die; my soul was broken, especially after that fuckin’ miscarriage.
And I still kept going. I rocked my baby while I was dying from pain.
After a week or two, I was already walking around in so much pain just to get better. Because I wanted to heal. I wanted to get better. I didn’t want to have complications.
But no one hugged me and told me, “Hey, you’ve done enough. You’re doing great. Get some rest.”
No one.
Of course I had this fuckin’ mental breakdown when I was so alone all the time.
And for what?
Just to realize how little I was actually known.
Even my fuckin’ surname…
I have no words.
Of course I was always the strong one, because I could never let my guard down. I had to keep going no matter what.
No one ever held me.
At this point, I have to ask myself:
“Do I even know what it feels like to be truly loved?”
I don’t know.
But I do know that I should have packed my shit and left this place a long time ago.