Day 21 to Thirty: Bullshit

1. Been feeling lazy to blog ever since I got home last night. Haven’t even finished yesterday’s post, yet it’s already published. Feeling lazier now that Butler and I fought. Nothing new to talk about. We always fight — then, and now.

2. Getting more frustrated with self with the passing of time. Being told to get my act together in not so subtle ways is pushing me further back into doing nothing. I really hate how reverse psychology works on me. It shouldn’t be this way.

3. Talked with Macky an hour after I woke. He was asking how Butler and I were. He knew we used to fight a lot when we were together nine years back. I told him we still do now, but I haven’t been as mad yet (now) as I have been before. Before, he had the capacity of making me shake in fury. I even punched him in the face, once, when he said something so infuriating. He’s gifted that way. I remembered how the littlest of things can rile me up and how he uses them to provoke me. I quoted the almost-fight last night about Mac vs. PC.

4. Talked to Butler after his clinic hours. Got into a real argument this time. Hating the fact that Butler has to always provoke me knowing I will blow my top off, then when I do and my mood sours, I push him to the edge with my stinging words… then he gets mad and says stupid things, then I get mad at the stupid things he said, then we get trapped in this vicious cycle of you-made-me-lose-my-cool-first. My pride is too high to bend and I never back down unless I have cooled my head off. Then I feel stupid for saying the things I did, then I painfully eat my too-huge pride, then apologize… Then I hate myself for apologizing and remember that he caused me to act stupid in the first place, then wait for the perfect apology from him which sometimes comes (and sometimes doesn’t), then I bare my teeth again and bite back once more. It never ends.

5. Just got off the phone with Butler. He got home at 10PM. I texted around 11 saying I was sorry about the previous argument. Had another big fight. I must have been waiting for that perfect apology much too eagerly. I became irritable and volatile. After many points of discussion he called me an ‘infant.’ We can’t simply help ourselves from getting on each other’s nerves. After he mocked me for feeling bad about my situation and sarcastically said “Sob, sob, sob” I lost it and wished to the high heavens I didn’t know him and I was just trapped in a nightmare. The person I entrusted all my fears to was trivializing… no, even lower than trivializing… my condition! It was one thing to not understand what I’m going through… but it’s another thing to act like he does and that he knows it can be easily fixed! The one person who I never thought would hurt me that way just slapped me in the face!

After disowning him I dropped the phone and hoped to never talk to him again (of course a pail of cold water to my head would have brought me back to my senses after a while) but he kept calling back so I had to pick it up, lest he wakes my parents. He claimed to have said that just because he was telling me to get up and was “extending his hand.” Load of bull! That DOES NOT give him the right to sarcastically say “Sob, sob, sob” after I open my mouth to share a terrible experience which is so hard to do in the middle of a fight. I was too tired to continue with the debacle and I knew that conversation could reach worse levels and I might just say something worse than disowning him so I just accepted his apology so he can go to sleep.

Unless he comes to terms with the fact that I am a victim of something bigger than I can handle alone and willing will to kick in is not an option, he will never be able to help me correctly. It’s like commanding a cripple to walk. He doesn’t admit to himself that I’m a cripple… just somebody who has a shallow bruise.

I’m not well. I’m apparently still on my downward spiral and I’m dragging along with me people who care. My [now] fair and rational mind is telling me to let him go since it’s not going to be good (or safe) for him. I’m pushing his limits. He’s pushing mine. He means well, but I can’t stop wondering if maybe he’s making my condition worsen by involuntarily making my mind run the opposite direction of where he wants it to go. I’m broken that way right now and he’s not helping to fix it.

I’m tired with my day. I’m tired of fights. I’m tired of my problems. I’m tired of not being able to doing anything on my own to solve them. I’m tired of my life.


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