I text her last night. I apologised for the Wednesday night (well, technically Thursday morning) mishap. Told her I hoped she was taking care of herself and that Boadicea was settling in well. She replied quickly, it was carefully constructed, the words well chosen so that their meaning could not be misconstrued, there was no kiss, no punctuation. I replied to that, brushing off her question asking how I was doing (what was I supposed to do, lie? Or fuck up our perfectly cordial conversation by saying: "well actually, you've pretty much ruined my life and I've never felt more alone"? No, of course not) instead I told her "make sure you don't over-work yourself" blah blah blah.
She didn't reply to that.
The texts and calls, tweets and BBMs from concerned well-wishers are waning now, as I knew they would. My friends are tiring of my depressive state. "It's been a week, get over it!" (No-one has actually said this outright, it's just the impression I'm getting). People don't want to take care of me, they want me to bounce-back and be the old Shannon who didn't give a fuck and was almost famous for her ability to cut people off and not bat an eyelid.
That's just not who I am anymore.
It's easy to "not give a fuck" when you don't know what you're missing, but when you do...
I'm lonely and I fucking hate it. But I don't just want anyone's company. I want the company of a select few, and they're 2 and a half hours away and busy living their own lives.
My self-destructive behaviour isn't for attention, it's just something to DO.
I know it's self-destructive, I know it won't help. But I don't care. Nothing I have done the past 8 days has made me feel any worse. You know why? Because there's nothing left to hurt. It's already done. It's like punching a corpse in the face - that's how much I feel it.
Writing helps, slightly. And sleep is a brief reprieve from heart-ache. I can't keep up either permanently though, and then the thoughts, the memories, the reality slips back in.
I feel restless, but I have no energy. I'm angry, but I'm in love with the person I'm angry with. I need to talk about things, but I can't talk to the people around me.
The result is this mess. I can't punish her so I'm punishing myself. If I do enough damage to myself physically maybe the emotional hurt will dull. It seems to be working. I've got to toe the line though, can't go too far. I swore I'd look after Boadicea so that means staying alive.
It doesn't mean I can't make myself suffer though.
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