damik's Diaryland Diary

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You are stronger then you think you are

That fight I had with Trevor really knocked me on my ass. I've been struggeling to deal with the issue much more lately. Fighting to let go.
I don't know if I'll ever convince myself that it wasn't my fault. But Trevor doesn't believe it. He thinks I led him on.
The thing is yah, so I was all inappropriate with other guys at work, but I was nerovous of him to begin with. I was polite bordering on friendly, but that was it.
I don't know, I never thought it happened because I led him on. I thought I was a stupid nieve chiled who trusted too much. Sure I wondered if maybe he thought 'cause I flirted with the other guys. Now the other time I knew I deserved it besause I was a little tart. I thought that it happened because I was dumb, not because I asked for it.
Everyone at the store thought it was my fault. From the whispers of co-workers to point blank statements from some I thought were friends. BUt I never thought Trevor thought it was my fault, too. Does it change anything.
Yah, it does, it makes the words 'It wasn't my fault' that much harder to believe.
God, it was my fault. But if it was my fault then
I have to forgive myself. But I don't know how to because it wasn't OK. I need some one to grab me by the shoulders and shake me. Tell me 'You got what you deserved, bitch. Get over it.' I need someone to wrap me in his strong arms and tell me he'll never let anyone hurt me again.
So I lead men on. I didn't think my opinion of myself could get any lower.
He wasn't really angry at the guys in the club. He was angry at me, he was angry at girls like me, who smile and are friendly. I think he would be less mad at me if I told him I was going on a date with one of thoes guys. Its girls like me who keep him waiting by the phone wondering why they don't cally. Its me he's mad at, and I don't blame him.
Fuck, in my mind I'm all justified. In my mind they were too drunk to even know if I would want to get to know them better. So I guess it should have stopped me from letting them sit at the table and be amused by their drunkenness.
Give me long enough and I'll have justified the 'they only want you for sex' comment too.
I've had to stop myself short mere then a few times from banging my wrist again. I have to resist the impulse.
But I want to cut, I want to burn, rip, tare, Just to see if I can feel. I want to releas this pressure that's been building.
You know what stops me? I made a promise. One I didn't intent to keep when I made it, a promise ment only to make him feel like what he said helped me. Sure, I'm not going to kill myself because someone cares, but, stop me from cutting? It's the only thing I have. It's my sence of control.
Then last time I held the razor in my hand I realized I was't the only one I'd be letting down. I told him, I promised him I would try and be strong.
I could tell myself that he doesn't really care. Or that I wouldn't be letting him down if he never found out. I wonder this promise means more to me then promises made to my mother, or sister, or shrink, or Trevor. I guess what he said ment more to me then I thought it did.
So I remain uncut, not from lack of desiar, but for a commitment I didn't intend to keep.
I wonder if thats what it's like to go to a twelve-step program to avoid jail time, just to find out there is actully something to it.

4:12 p.m. - 02-16-03
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