Confused

It is embarrassing how little self control I have. How bad I feel like I need you. It’s embarrassing being in this fucking spot mentally, emotionally, creatively, intellectually. That’s why I can only text when I’m drunk. Cause I’m no longer embarrassed. That’s why I drink all of the time. To stop feeling bad about feeling bad. To get the courage to talk. I’m sorry it’s like this. I’m sorry I’m not who i was. Who i could be. Who I’m supposed to be. I was just trying to deal with so much shit on my own so you wouldn’t have to that idk who i am anymore.

We went to see my favorite band

the one that left me with the stick n poke.

Expect this time i went alone

while you showed up with a friend.

I sat in the back until they played

I saw you rush past on your way in.

A beer in my hand and five in me,

the smile on your face ripped me in two

I was too drunk to leave

so I cried through their set.

Everything reminds me of you.

Me: wow I’ve been feeling great! I met my new therapist this weekend, was really social, was feeling fairly confident, and just generally like progress has been made!

Brain: Yeah but what about the fact that you ruined your relationship with the woman you thought you were gonna marry, continually pushed her further away from you while she lives her best life without you, drink way too much, spend ridiculous amounts on clothes to give yourself seconds of joy until realizing they are just band aids over your cripplingly low self esteem, are unable to express yourself the way you felt you could to the person you are still in love with, feel like you are constantly just covering up all this pain and negative feelings regardless of it being healthy coping mechanisms or not, seem to only communicate your emotions via meme format or gif, and simply just want to either lay in bed while she holds you and plays with your hair or just simply no longer exist?

Brain: also don’t forget about the ever looming imagery of killing yourself that pops into your head for no apparent reason even though you claim that those aren’t actually fantasies.

Me: well fuck.

Brain:

Spent three years basking

In lavender and rose water

Incense and pachouli

Lately I’ve been surrounded

By bitter tobacco in winter air

And phony versions of your scent

Nothing is quite right in the air

Not sweet enough to be you

Or too sweet to be real

You used to tell me how important

Scents were in your life

now i just want to find yours again