TW?
Well. I've eaten all the m&ms I gave myself to strengthen me to face this. Nothing personal to the kind people who have replied, nor the 200(?) others who have viewed my basically saying nothing. What does 243 views mean? Does it count each time I open this up to almost make an entry? I digress. I'm stalling. I'm only posting on mobile, and that makes it less real and serious, safer almost safer somehow. Which is probably silly, why would that be safer? This isn't what I was going to write about. I should delete it, I should post it anyway. I'm not saying anything, I'm exposing myself somehow, I'm trying to get attention, I'm always trying to be looked at, and never ever seen. To * with it, I should keep going, if I write enough, I can hide in a wall of text, and nobody reads a wall of text anymore, everything is TL:DR
heh heh the preview shows a star, an asterisk actually, H E double hockey sticks. I was just thinking I should have put TW at the beginning just in case, I don't know maybe. I'll put it with a question mark.
Ok here's the thing: nothing bad is happening, not compared to what I have been. I'm watching over my shoulder if I think about it, because I haven't had an episode. There I've said it. It's terrifying, like it will get me, like maybe it overlooked me somehow, and if I don't say anything, it won't notice, like not saying the devil's name aloud, like using a euphemism like Old Nick, like using an asterisk in place of... Well, you know.
Risky. A space. That breaks the wall of text. Suddenly I'm visible.
Another one. Here I am poking my head out of my shell. Sticking my neck out to get my head chopped off.
Now. It's this too. Didn't even dissociate just this night, felt the pull, the memory of it, but here I still am. But who is it that is me?
Nobody, nearly nobody. Working and working to be looked at but not seen, to be whoever it looked like I was supposed to be.
Only one woman knows me, and I even hide from her sometimes, many times. But she took me back, compassion and love, forgiveness, even after everything.
But now to find the strength, the will for more. Up or down? No plateau, all is flow, shrink or grow.
Not what I imagined when I spent an hour pretending in my mind that I was journaling here. So clear, so composed, but this?
It's what I have. What else I have to work with? At least it's something real.