I'm even angrier now that I wrote a whole f*cking rant, and then my internet crashed and the entire post just disappeared. God f*cking damit. f*cking f*ck. God f*cking damit. I don't feel like writing down everything that I feel all over again. You know what. I don't care. I'm just going to spew out whatever thoughts I have.
Val, I swear to f*cking god, I am so sick and goddamn tired. I'm so sick and tired of being a secondary character in a story revolving around your life. I'm so sick and tired of being constantly dismissed. I'm so sick and tired of that parasite's BULLf*ckERY. I've been with you for ten f*cking years. I've been your best friend since we were 12 years old. I've helped you and comforted you time and time again since we were TWELVE YEARS OLD. I was f*ckING TWELVE and I was trying to calm you down from panic attacks. Of course, back then we both didn't know that you had an anxiety disorder, let alone f*cking depression and PTSD. But of course, now that you're 21, none of that matters, does it? No, forget all the times I was there for you, forget all the times I told you I'd never abandon you, forget all the times I stayed up at ridiculously stupid hours in order to make sure that you were okay.
There is only SO f*ckING MUCH I can do, Val. You live in Texas. I live in Canada. And yet for almost every single day for 10 years, I've spoken to you. I've messaged you on skype or I called or texted you. I've spent hours upon HOURS of my life making sure that you were okay, even when I was supposed to be having fun elsewhere. But no. You're not going to remember all the times I've shown my unconditional love for you. Instead, you're going to remember that one span of time when I was 16 and I was eager to explore the world and meet new people and bond with them. You're going to remember that one single span of time for about two months where I met friends that shared my artistic passions and I wanted to talk to them a lot. Yes. Okay. I talked with them a LOT more than I did with you at that time, which was rude of me and a mistake on my part. Yes, I know I f*cked up. I know I made you feel like shit. I didn't f*cking mean to do that. I was a TEENAGER. I was cooped up in a small bubble with you since childhood, I WANTED to break free. I'm SORRY I got angry that one time and made you feel afraid. But in the end, I didn't f*cking abandon you, now did I? No, I did not. I AM NEVER GOING TO ABANDON YOU. The more your f*cking parasites tell you that I will, the more I want to sink my claws into you and screech at your disorders. But do you really blame me? Do you really blame me for feeling cornered and desiring to be free? Do you really blame me for wanting to find people who validated my feelings?
That's another f*cking thing. Val, for years and years, I have validated how you feel. Even if the topic was originally about my pain, if you became hurt, I immediately f*cking helped and catered to you and did everything in my willpower to subdue the monsters. Anxiety was easier to subdue. Depression and Stress on the other hand were not. But after time and time again of my problems somehow finding a way to worm into your consciousness and create a trigger that I then have to deal with, can you really blame me for no longer voicing you my problems and running to other people? Can you really blame me for WANTING TO BE VALIDATED AND FEEL SAFE?
The night I told you that I got a boyfriend, I told you that I was so reluctant to speak because I was scared of being invalidated. You told me that my feelings were important and valid. You told me that I was a person and deserved love. For a split moment, I thought I had my best friend back. And I was such a f*cking fool for believing that. The moment I told you, you were gone. You spiralled. You disassociated. You spoke to me in the 3rd person for three days. You swerved between rage and agony. You kept telling me about how you wanted to die, how you were hopeless, helpless and without a future. This was about you again. All about f*cking you. No, it doesn't matter how much I say I care and love you and that nothing will change between us, does it? It doesn't matter how much I repeat to you that you're the most important thing in my life. It doesn't f*cking matter what I say. It DOESN'T MATTER, because that little parasite takes my words and somehow makes them horrifying to your ears. That little f*cker drowns you in darkness and when I reach out my hand to pull you out, instead of grabbing my hand, instead of TRUSTING someone who has helped you time and time again, you decide to believe in that monster. You decide to believe that THING in your head and you recoil away from me. You scream at me and you writhe and kick in the darkness, begging for help, and yet you refuse. To f*cking. Grab. My hand. You refuse to trust me. You refuse to believe in me. You have decided that the parasite - a monster that corrupts and distorts reality - is more 'real' than I am. Me, a real, physical f*cking person, is not as real as that thing in your head.
And when I look at that bastard, I stare at it dead in the face and it smirks at me. It laughs at me. It tells me that no matter what I do, I'm powerless.
You're scared I'll abandon you and move on without you, you say? f*ck. Off. I'M the one who lives in constant anxiety and paranoia, terrified at the idea that one day, you will no longer be there. When you get scared that I'll abandon you, I tell you that I won't, that you're important to me, that I love you, that no matter what the f*ck happens I'm stuck to you whether you like it or not. But when I am scared and desperate, and I tell you that I'm scared you'll kill yourself and abandon me, you don't comfort me. When I beg and plead for you to just wait a few more days, to keep on going for a little while longer, you tell me "I'll try, but I can't promise you that." Val, on all f*cking grounds, you have no right to be afraid. You have no f*cking right, because I've proved to you a million times over that I will never f*cking abandon you. You, on the other hand, have given me every f*cking reason to distrust you, disbelieve you, fear every single waking moment I spend away from you and fear the possibility that I'll wake up the next morning and you will no longer be there.
I know you have suffered. You have suffered far more than I ever will.
But I grow tired, Val. I grow tired of staying up until 2am telling you that you have a future. I grow tired of listening to the same f*cking thing over and over again. I grow tired of being distrusted. I grow tired of having to sit at the side of my boyfriend's bed, calling you on my phone to calm you the f*ck down while he struggles to sleep because he feels like he's responsible for causing you to have seperation anxiety for me. I grow tired of my dad telling me that you're using me. I grow tired, Val. I just grow so, so tired.
You,re undergoing therapy soon. I know. I know you are. I know things will get better. I just want you to understand that just because I like talking to other people, doesn't mean that you're worthless. It doesn't mean I'll leave you. It doesn't mean that you have no future.
So get the f*ck up. Learn how to build yourself as a person with independance. Learn that being constantly dependant on me will make you f*cking miserable. Learn that the words the parasites feed you are f*cking lies. Get back on your meds. Write. Draw. Stop critizing and self loathing yourself for things that aren't your fault. Stop berating yourself exactly how your abusers berated you. Stop that. Stop. Stop.
Please. Please. Fly. Learn to fly.
Please. I beg of you. It hurts. It hurts to see you in pain. It hurts to see you like this. I haven't truly spoken to you in years. Every day, I wake up and I can sense Stress looming over you, watching, waiting, and grinning sinisterly at me, waiting for me to mess up. Waiting for the perfect sentence to twist and turn. Waiting for the perfect thing to make you feel like I don't care.
Please. I beg of you. I know it hurts. I know it does. It hurts me too.
