damik's Diaryland Diary

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I Just Wanted the Sunshine

He was off last night, Trevor was off. We got to spend the night together, But I couldn�t sleep well, the air conditioner isn't working and it's damn hot in our apartment. I was up every few hours. He woke up sometime around nine. I got up at nine-thirty, the time staff meeting would have been out, if we had had it. He spent most of the time on the computer, I puttered around for a bit, tried to watch television through the static, wondering when the cable guy was going to show up.
And by and by the time soon came for Trevor to go to his Ju-jitsu class. I'm glad he's going; it's something that he's wanted to do for sometime now. You can't just live your life full of starry-eyed dreams saying one day I'm going to do it, someday... For him, for this goal the someday is now. And he's always excited about it when he comes home. I was excited for him to get home, too. Its Wednesday, my weekend. I wanted to get out of the box. I told him I would clean the living room and do the dishes if he brought home ice cream after his class. I puttered around a bit; I waited while the cable guy set us up with service. And I did my chores like I said.
I was so looking forward to him coming home. We haven't spent much time together lately. He's been doing nights. That usually throws everything off.
I was working on the dishes when he came home. He bought cat food, he bought bread, chips, soda, but he forgot the ice cream. I could finish up the dishes; we could take a shower and go together. He didn't have to go back by himself to get ice cream.
No he says, if we do that then I would want to do something. He practically spit out the do something part like it was a vile poison I had forced him to ingest. He just wanted to relax. He was tired, he was hurt, and with that I could sympathize. But, the way he reacted to us going to get ice cream. How the idea of me tagging along with him to the store seemed like the worst thing in the world. And maybe I did react badly. Maybe it was my fault. But any vision I had of us having a fun day, enjoying the beauty of spring... I hate when things shatter, there is no way you can fix them then.
I keep trying to not hurt him, I keep maintaining that I didn't get into this relationship to deliberately hurt him, but he said such vile things to me. I'm a retard, a psycho, manic-depressive, controlling bitch. Most of all I'm a bitch.
If I could go a week, a day, without him calling me a bitch.
So I lashed out, too.
Did I mention he came in sat right down and begin to check the call logs on my phone?
I called him an asshole. But I guess sometimes what I say when I try and make my point, hurts worse then calling him names. I don't mean to, I just want him to know how I feel. I keep thinking it will make a difference how he makes me feel.
But it hasn�t.
He told me if I wanted to go somewhere, to just go, go and fuck who ever it is that I'm fucking.
He says he doesn't really believe that I'm fucking someone else; he just says it over and over because it hurts me so much. It hurts me so much that he would even think that, that I can never take away the idea he's gotten into his head that I'm unfaithful. It hurts me that he'd say it. Even just to hurt me.
I wish he would just hit me. Physical pain is fleeting. I've cut myself, I've burned myself, hit and bit myself, and they fade, they fade to the point I can't remember the how. I have scars I vaguely remember inflicting. But they are never as deep as bitch. They are never as deep as slut. They are scorched into my soul.
I though things were supposed to get tougher with each scar. But my heart isn't any tougher today. The pain isn't any less.
I sat here in front of the computer desk. Take away my razor, throw them all away, there is always another one. Didn't take me anytime to find one. I sat there looking at the screen, and I cut myself again. Shattering a fifty-two day streak. I didn't care that he was right there. I knew he wouldn't notice, and I don't think he would have cared. He may have even been right, when if he had noticed, he called me manipulative again. I didn't care; I wanted to be able to press down. To cut deeply. To let the blood flow like my tears.
I locked myself in the bathroom. He's right when he says I'm such a child. How odd that what was once a punishment for me, could now make me feel a kind of security. I belong locked in the dark. Alone.
I just cried, wanting some one to hold me and love me and mean it. Wanting to rip myself apart. I'm no good. He needs some one better then me. Some one who can take things in stride. Some one who's content doing whatever, as long as they're with him.
I just wanted the sunshine.
I feel so selfish. I want to stop being who I am. A stupid hurtful girl.
What's sad is I never dreamed I would make it this far in life. I was sure by now I would be dead. And that wouldn't have been a bad thing. Then at least people would miss me, forgetting all the bad things I ever was. Forgiving me for who I am.

11:38 p.m. - 04-10-02
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