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Some days, I don't know myself

"Cheer up and dry your damp eyes, and tell me when it rains. And I'll blend up that rainbow above you and shoot it through your veins. 'Cause your heart has a lack of color, and I should have known, that we'd grow up sooner than later 'cause we wasted all our free time alone."

There are days were I'm better. And days where I'm worse. Today, it's a worse day. Keeping my mind off of suicide is no easy task. I write, and I write, and nothing seems to help like it used to. So I fix my problems with alcohol and pray I don't cry. It's not that I'm lonely, though I am. It's that I'm contented being miserable.

I mean, I don't want to feel this way, but I won't change it. I won't get help. I won't change my habits.

I want to feel special, to be loved, but I'm contented with heartless hookups and dead end relationships. I'm fucking myself over, and I know it, but I go through the motions anyway.

Something has to change.
 
And you can do it, Ducky. It's hard, but you can change. You'll do it every so often through your life; I know I have.

For me, at least, the hardest part is always knowing where to attack the problem first. Something needs to change, but what? I hope you figure that out soon. I realize we noncorporeal internet people aren't good for all that much, but if there's anything we might help with, I implore you to ask. I, for one, will be happy to help when I can.
 
Lieutenant Ducky said:
"Cheer up and dry your damp eyes, and tell me when it rains. And I'll blend up that rainbow above you and shoot it through your veins. 'Cause your heart has a lack of color, and I should have known, that we'd grow up sooner than later 'cause we wasted all our free time alone."

There are days were I'm better. And days where I'm worse. Today, it's a worse day. Keeping my mind off of suicide is no easy task. I write, and I write, and nothing seems to help like it used to. So I fix my problems with alcohol and pray I don't cry. It's not that I'm lonely, though I am. It's that I'm contented being miserable.

I mean, I don't want to feel this way, but I won't change it. I won't get help. I won't change my habits.

I want to feel special, to be loved, but I'm contented with heartless hookups and dead end relationships. I'm fucking myself over, and I know it, but I go through the motions anyway.

Something has to change.
Click to expand...
Location, maybe?

If you're feeling down, don't hesitate to call me, babe. I always love to hear your voice, and I've always got time for you.
 
Thank you, Mister. I'm sure I'll manage. It's just been a little rough, recently. C'est la vie? I'm not too worried.



And no worries, Ben, Darling. Someday, I'll be around to beat you up for real<3
 
Months of anticipation had led to this moment.

When she met him, she had been taken in by his easy charm and careless smile. They both flirted as easily as they breathed and so each and every moment they found themselves together, the game began. Sometimes they would be coy, sometimes horribly inappropriate, but always harmless. Or at least, that's how it started.

You see, matters of the heart were always messy when it came to Leigh. And so, as it was bound to happen, the normally smiling girl ended up in the same room as carefree Jimmy after a recent heartbreak. And as is her nature, she did her best to play the game, but Jimmy was unexpectedly observant. He managed to coax the story from her and cheer her up easily enough. This left her with a new impression of the boy she had thought to be just roguishly attractive.

She found herself looking for him, excited for the days they worked together. The joke took on a new element, the occasional bit physical contact, escalating challenges that could only be satisified by a night together. Tempting fate, she made effort to spend time with him. He only once took her up on her offer. A friend of Leigh's spotted them and made the occasion terribly awkward.

After that, Jimmy seemed to want nothing to do with her, so Leigh retreated back into her shell. Working off the assumption that his oppinion of her had been compromised, be it through her actions, Derrin's big mouth, or nasty rumors started by her summer fling, she stopped playing the game. She stopped looking for him, her pride covering hurt with distaste.

But eventually, they worked together and old habits are hard to break. Leigh didn't think too much on it, she thought she had found someone, at least for the moment. Just more of the game, quite certain Jimmy didn't care at all. Personal space was invaded, looks exchanged, and while she was undeniably attracted, she had her plans with the drummer to excite her.

And then one day, she realized she hadn't heard from her drummer in a while. They had haphazardly made plans, but her shift was ending, and he never bothered contacting her. Disappointed, she clocked out with every intention of going home and getting wasted.

Jimmy was outside, sitting in his car, loitering about after his shift. More people showed up and next thing she knew, it was five in the morning, she was sober, and she had barely left Jimmy's side. Being close to him like that, she had forgotten that she had been stood up and hurt yet again.

Even after everyone had left, they sat in his car for another hour and a half, both of them opening up more than they had intended. Leigh valued every moment of that evening, knowing she was seeing a side of him kept under lock and key. She found out that his sudden distance may have been nothing more than a reaction of guilt. Jimmy blamed himself for her heartbreak, that her summer fling has tossed her aside like so much garbage as he had been friends with the boy and recommended he persue another, not knowing about his involvement with Leigh.

When she left, it seemed she left him stunned by a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth and she went home contented that she had contained some more drastic impulses. Something about him made Leigh want to be more than a poorly respected, easy hookup. She wanted friendship, a chance to get to know Jimmy better, to be something special.

For weeks after that, they saw each other around, kept in touch better than they had before, but still not very well. Leigh would get nervous and clam up, instead of asking him to spend time with her.

But today, she wants to change that. The ringing is intimidating, but it's too late to back out now. "Hello?" he answers.

"Hey Jimmy, it's Leigh. Would you like to hang out sometime next week?"


~~~~~~~~~~

Something writen a while back, I'm just copying a thing or two out of my notebook and thought I'd post this one here.
It's very me, you know.
 
Still on the vein of typing up my notebook, but this one, I finished it today. It's where my mind has been for a while, and it's why I'm so confused with what I want right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He'll never understand. And that's okay. I've long ago learned that it isn't easy to accept a girl having such a dark streak. That when a man cares about a woman, her fantasies take backseat to love and affection. And I'm no monster, I do appreciate those things.

It simply leaves me wanting. Yearning for a rougher hand. However, the trouble is, I can't picture him in that capacity. I have watched him plow into other men, been stomped on and kicked around and fought back for a ball. I have kissed blood, sweat, and dirt from his brow after witnessing the carnage of one of his games. But when I am in his bed, he refuses to even cling to me in a moment of passion, lest he bruise my delicate skin.

Time and time again, I remind him of my passions, my interest, but still he denies me. Claims that he could never.

And so, when I fantasize, it is about another. Sure, I feel guilty about such, but one can't help their dreams and reactions. If anything, I believe I have done well not to act on such impulses, given my nature. Not that I would ever excuse such behavior, but I am not beyond reproach either.

I distance myself when he gets too close. I avoid topics that could lead us somewhere. But still, in quiet moments, it's him I think about. It's the beard growing in scruffy around soft lips I imagine rubbing raw the inside of my things. His full lips kissing mine, made sensitive by the gag he's only just freed me of. His work rough fingertips removing the tape that had held me in place while he had his way with me.

I imagine, the first time, it would be sudden. At work, most likely, the threat of discovery silencing any cries of passion to little more than a murmur. It would start with a poorly timed kiss and before either of us can regain our senses, my pants would be on the floor, his lowered. My panties would be pushed to the side and he would be sheathed so deep inside of me, I wouldn't be able to form a single coherent thought.

He'd leave me a trembling, disheveled mess, unable to forget about the way he tangled one hand in my hair, pulling hard to crane my neck to his attentive mouth. And so I'd sneak out to my car lest anyone see the bite marks and hickies that hadn't marred my neck when I had clocked out. And I'd already be planning the next meeting.

I'd want him to over power me in every way possible. Exposed to the elements, pressed up against a tree in his back yard. Tied to his bed. Bent over with my wrists taped to my ankles, relying on him to keep me from falling over after every thrust.. I'd crave his rough hands, his hungry mouth, the way my skin tingles after a firm slap to my ass. I'd love the way I'd end up panting his name every time. And the way he'd grunt my name would send shivers down my spine hours afterwards.

Maybe there would be a tender connection in the aftermath of our vicious passion, but I wouldn't count on such. It would be too convenient, too perfect and that doesn't happen.

But like I said, this is all just a fantasy. It's not going to happen, I might as well keep dreaming that some day I can find perfection, right?
 
Of course, no one is perfect. But I wonder if perhaps there's a deeper reason as to why he doesn't want to explore those things with you besides the possibility of hurting you too much. There is always the chance he thinks he might go too far and really damage you. It's something to think about. I don't know much about these things but I've heard of that behavior before and sometimes come with the fear of "but what if I don't stop when she says this or that" or "what if I really hurt her and ruin what we have?" Just something to think about. Anyways, love you, Ducky baby. I hope things work out in that department for the best.

Side note: Perhaps it could be he has a darker side as well and is terrified of it?​
 
He broke up with me. He paniced after the baby scare and took off. May still come to his senses after he's had some down time, but no clue, really. I'm side swiped and blown away, but this gives me a chance to stretch a bit. God knows I had my doubts, but there weren't enough to leave him for. Maybe it's time to take a nibble elsewhere and see how I feel about it.
 
I try to talk big. I shut down around others, friends and family, especially coworkers and customers, but this is hurting a lot more than I anticipated. I feel hallowed out, just empty on the inside. I haven't felt this numb since my abortion, but in a different way. I went through my stage of doubt about the relationship and I came through on the other side thinking that he was worth it being scary. And that I shouldn't fuck up a good thing just because it's not what I'm used to.

I know that he's recently gotten bad news and that he's freaking out about his health. I want to be there to keep him positive. Tell him that yes, it COULD be a growth in his bone marrow, but bruising happens all the time in sports players and he's been playing rugby since he was just a young thing. There's no reason it wouldn't be a typical sports injury, so to keep positive.

I never once brought up us moving in together, getting married, having kids. I'm bad with the future and worse at making plans. And those are all serious commitments. I'm skittish about those too. Why would I rush that nonsense?

I just feel abandoned. He told me he wanted me around for a while. That he wanted me to have nice things, to take me on vacation with him and see the world. Be with him through the bad and the good and that he loved me. And god damn it, I believed him. I wanted those things too. I trusted him and now...I feel stupid for having done so.

I can't decide if I want to talk to him. Explain these things, as I mostly just nodded my head when he told me he wasn't ready and told him I understood. I do. And normally, I'm passive. I just, let things happen. I don't argue, I don't try. I just smile and go, "Well of course he took off. He could do better than you, it was just a matter of time before he realized that," and let it all slip past me.

But then, haven't we always been told that some things are worth fighting for? I don't know what to do.
 
*hugs ducky*

sweetie. if you feel it's worth fighting for, even a little. then do. that way you'll have no regrets. even if things end up not working out, at least you'll know you did your best and what you could. i hope all turns out well and for the best. for it's what you truly deserve. <3
 
Fight for it. Even the tiniest spark can forge a fire. Sounds corny, but if you even feel the tiniest inkling to fight for him, then do it as DA said.​
 
We talked and he just looked so defeated. Not like the boy I had fallen for. He had nothing to offer me but apologies. Saying that he had been thinking about our relationship before the MRI results and he was just doing what he thought was best. I asked him if it would have been so bad to stick around with me, he answered no and looked sad again.

I left because I just couldn't think of the words and was starting to break down again. So I sent him a text saying, "I'm not so good with talking. I had only hoped that if I pointed out that there was no pushing for anything more, you'd give us a chance to move at our own pace. I don't want to sound cruel but you said you loved me and I've always thought that love deserves a chance. I went through my doubt and pulled through and that's why I was brave enough to come talk to you even though it was scary and I didn't expect you to change your mind. I just want you to be happy, Sweetheart. At the end of the day, that's what matters."

He replied, "Thank you and I want you to be happy too. I just think this will work out best in the long run. I know that doesn't make sense when you read it but I am having a hard time explaining it. I'm sorry."

So I texted back, "You really think you couldn't have stayed happy with me? That everything would have just fallen apart?"

"I don't know but I know I didn't want that to happen."

Which lead to my last text. I don't really expect a reply. I showed a bit too much and perhaps made him feel guilty. I didn't mean to. I said, "I'm sure you can understand that that is really hard to accept. I'd like to think I'm worth the risk. And that it could all go to hell, but you spent as much time and effort as you could before it went down hill for us to be happy together. I'd do the same for you."


Love sucks. I miss my flings.
 
I think your last text was entirely appropriate. If he feels guilty, he ought to.

He's clinging to the logic of fear. Afraid that things might fall apart, afraid that you could drift. But nobody got anything worthwhile out of fear. The logic of hope is the flip side of that coin. It's risky, yes, but if it works out, it's awesome. It could fail, and then you'd basically be in the same position as if you didn't try. But without that attempt, there can't be success.

I would want you to stick to the logic of hope, as you did in this case, but it's hard when others are so fearful.

I'm taking him at his word, of course, that he really did think about it, that he really wanted what he said he wanted. I've known enough guys (hell, I've BEEN that guy) to be concerned he's trying to "let you down easy," that he's just tired of the relationship but doesn't want to hurt you unduly, but if you feel he's genuine in what he says, I'll trust your judgment. I would be remiss if I didn't point out the options, though.

I can tell you it'll pass, I can tell you about the future, but that's not going to help what you're feeling right now, and I'm sorry for that. I'd give you a hug that lasted three days, if I had the chance.
 
Friday night, I had a mild breakdown, alcohol influenced. And at some point, I broke one of the little bones in my left foot in at least two places that show up cleanly on the xray.

But some good came out of it, so it's whatever.
 
:[

If you need someone to talk to Ducky, I am offering my services. I hope you and your foot are feeling a little better, love.
 
Well, I may not be on MSN or BM that often, but I do have a cell phone thing that has unlimited texts that I'd have no problem with you abusing. All you have to do is ask.
 
I don't know how I'm going to get through today. Or this weekend for that matter. I've been sleeping less and less, and that's with taking melatonin to help me doze off. But already it's not working, along with chamomile tea, hot baths, soothing music. Everything you could think to recommend to a person who has trouble falling asleep fails as far as I'm concerned. And honestly, I generally get by well enough without sleep. Insomnia is nothing new for me. But I'm still getting over a nasty cold that just sapped my energy. And mix in a serious bought of depression. That I was apparently making worse by taking the melatonin. And now I've been up for forty of the last forty-eight hours, I haven't dozed off yet, and I need to be up and moving for a double shifting starting in less than three hours. And you know, I could deal with that. Honestly, I could.

But if I have to be awake, why can't I enjoy that time. I wouldn't even be posting this, but I'm too afraid to go into the bathroom to get some tylenol for my headache because there is a package of razor blades in that same cabinet. It's been years since I cut. But I still want to. I feel like I can't be left alone. I don't want to be awake, I don't want to be conscious, part of me doesn't even want to be alive. It's not so much that I'm suicidal as it is that I'm bent out of shape that I'm not dead. That's not a healthy way to be. People who are okay don't think about these things.

I've been trying so hard, and I just don't think I'm doing alright. I'll be filling out paperwork throughout the day that should put me in the right direction towards getting my very own therapist, but in the mean time, I still have to exist. And that just doesn't sound pleasant.

Thanks for being here for me to rant, BM. I know I don't come around much any more, but it's nice to have some outlet with minimal judgement and some anonymity.
 
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