confession: i hate my parents' marriage. and i think know it is why i seem to have some sort of toxic addiction to bad relationships. and that i self-sabotage. run from potentially good things. i don't actually know which one it really is. then again, maybe it's all of the above. all i know is that i'm severely fucked up. and i hate my parents' marriage.

i hate the way they are with each other. i hate the way they talk to one another. i hate the way they talk about each other. i hate how they just have so much anger and resentment towards each other and yet, neither of them are brave enough, or i guess, strong enough to leave. to just finally give up and cut loose and go on to be free and be happy.

it has been over 30 years. and i am so sick of this shit. and it's crazy that i take to the internet to write confessions to strangers and, well, just about anybody with an internet connection, really but the truth is that nobody cares. and nobody really reads anything anyway. people live their lives and the world spins madly on and everything happens even when nothing does.

why must it only ever be that i gloat over the good things? when the fact of the matter is that 99% of my life has been serious struggle. i've never been one to lie about who i am, where i've come from and what i've seen. i don't even feel like i need to be embarrassed about this shit. i didn't choose this for myself.

and the one thing i must always remember is never to ever choose this for myself. today marks one month, zero days and one hour of being single for me. that's four weeks. 30 days. 721 hours. and yes, i am keeping track of this shit just like addicts do with their sobriety because i believe that i am severely addicted to (bad) relationships. eight years, three months since i was 17. i've been in terrible, terrible relationships. not always with bad people. only that i accepted way more shit than i ever needed to. and i never questioned why. the longest i've ever been single is five months— i couldn't even make it to six. or 12. that's no fuckin' bueno.

last night, on the phone to five, i was able to make a lot of (new) connections to discern some of my behaviourism. it was odd seeing as how there'd been a time when i'd found myself struggling to explain me but somehow, last night, i'd managed to make the link. perhaps it'd been the cold medication that'd aided me. in drowsiness, i had found lucidity. ironic, no?

there are obvious fissures in me. and i know that this insatiable craving for love, proximity and affection springs from this entire tsunami of a shitty past. now, more than ever, i just need out. and i am hoping, wishing, praying like crazy that this is going to be the turning point for me. once and for fucking all.

Dieu, s'il te plaît, protège-moi de moi-même. amen.