I've written a couple of things that aren't depressing whiny bullshit. Really I have...They're just sitting in drafts because my words got stuck...So yea, sorry and all...
B came in and poisoned my fucking life. The beauty in dancing with demons is pulling them out into the light. There's no light left anymore. I just sit in the dark and watch them chew on pieces of our fucking souls.
It's not this place that's killing us, it's her. We could have survived this fucking pit of humanity okay if it hadn't been for her...
She threw me away like a truly worthless whore, and did her best to hurt him as bad as she could and insure my destruction on her way out the door. She stuck a knife in his heart, set his demons free, closed the blinds, walked out, and locked the door with us both inside.
I don't do it for Alpha any more. Not really. I really don't. And that hurts. Yes he wants me, yes he needs me, yes he loves me truly and deeply, but I just don't do it for him. Even though I've never really been quite enough, I used to do it for him. Before B.
I was offered to another, and not taken.
That other was smart, and good fucking gods, I'm gonna stay away and not fuck him up. Because I do actually really love him even though I shouldn't in the way that I do. But ultimately, that's okay because he'll never know that the girl who left him really isn't the only one who ever loved him.
If I love it, it breaks. So I'll just try to stay away, he's the only one left that I ever truly loved and haven't really genuinely fucked up.
As ridiculous and silly as it sounds, he's my shot at not fucking up, at staying away, at serving in a way that genuinely benefits him, by accepting that such service takes the form of an ear to hear about the girl who loved him, the one who comes in and does the dishes when his wife's mother dies, the one who accepts whatever he offers, even, ironically, when that offer is rejection.
And yea, I know I shouldn't feel that way about anyone besides the one who owns me. I know that. But hey, we all fucked up. The only difference is our degrees of fucked, and whether we ever admit it or not. After all, it's easier to live a lie.
In all though? Fuck...I've never felt less desirable and more fucking poisonous in my life, and I have a long history of screwed up self esteem, so that's saying something.
I talked to my sil most of the night last night. The one that those of you who have been around for a long time will remember because she was a fucking junky and we tried to save her from herself....It's been five years. She's schizophrenic as fuck and other sil said nothing.
Odd as it sounds, she was my first baby. And good fucking gods above, it hurts to hear her talking like my mother in law. off the goddamn deep end. In the most real sense of the word.
And she's sick and scared, and her/their mom's dying, and I sat there and told her that "baby I know you're scared and, and I know love hurts, and yes, I know you're like mom and not quite right, and baby I love you. Never stopped. No matter how fucking angry I was."
And I cried, because she is truly fucking broken and I miss who she was before mainlining became her life and she fell off the deep end of insanity. And I miss her babygirl...We couldn't save her either.
I feel like B pushed us off the edge into the bad side of reality, and there's no scrambling back out. Everything falls that tiny slip of chance into the worst things could be. But it's never really the worst, because there's always more fucking bad.
I'll never really truly satisfy Alpha on my own. I feel like I barely even turn him on any more, and it only works if he supplements me with fantasy. It wasn't like that before her.
She poisoned my fucking existence. And I let her. Begged him to let her even.
I used to feel magic in my veins, the earth listened back, the trees whispered to my soul, I had somehow become clean of all the unclean things that happened to me. She ended all of that. I'm not magic anymore, maybe I never was and I'm just fucking crazy. And I'll never be clean again. To the roots of my fucking soul.
She won--my life will always be measured by before and after her. That's all she really wanted. Maybe that and because she broke us on purpose. Because we were big and beautiful and powerful, and she's a succubus. And we let her suck out and fucking destroy everything that was pure and beautiful in us.
Oh yea, and I hope my sons counselors rot in fucking hell, because my bright, well behaved kids are not the ones I would have called cps on in a city of half a million fucked up assholes.
Yea...Seems that when you fall off the bad edge of reality, it can always get worse.
Not too long ago, I was broken. At the time, I cared about not being broken. Now? I could really give a shit less as long as I can pull off being a decent parent. Which I am. Did I mention that I hope those gossiping, exaggerating, lying fucking cunts that my kids call counselors rot in hell?
You win B--Your attempts at getting him to destroy himself by destroying me have been a success. Except for the fact that I can't hate him for it. And if he decides to, I'll let him drag me through the fucking mud until I die without holding it against him. All the fucking while hoping that I have pleased in some way because that is who I fucking am whether anyone, including myself, likes it or not.
