Sometimes i hate being me. I care too much, and too easily. My overwhelming sense of honour and justice holds me back from saying things that i need to say, because they're not just my secrets, but someone elses. And it hurts to know that no matter how much i want to, I could never live with myself for saying them. My relationship's fallen apart. As in, past tense. I've been set on artificially lengthening it, in the hopeless delusion that I could be happy for a week. But i know that's not going to work. I fucking exploded today, over a small misunderstanding. Because every fibre of my being is in horrendous pain. I'm putting myself through the most horrible of tortures. I haven't been happy for a month now. Sadly, over the years, I've become exceptionally good at pretending I'm ok. I don't think anyone realised that i was suffering depression until about year 12. So only a few people noticed that I'm not enjoying life anymore.
It's time to stop putting myself through this. I'm sure you all know what happened to me a month ago. Or, some of it. I got dumped, out of nowhere. It could not have come at a worse time. I can't tell you why it happened, it's not my secret to share. But i can tell you why it shouldn't have. On the 27th of July, 2011, William Pandelles Georgans, one of the greatest men to ever walk this earth and the greatest grandfather I could ever have hoped for, passed away in his bed at the SAN hospital, after a 3 month fight with bowel cancer. 3 days later, my girlfriend of the last 18 months told me that we couldn't be together any more. 2 days later, we agreed that it was a mistake and should be undone. For about 4 hours, i was actually happy. And then she told me why it had happened. Part of me screams "FUCK IT TELL THEM!" And the rest of me goes, it would make things worse for everyone involved. I've only told 3 people, my mum, my conscience, and my best friend. Don't ask, i won't explain. But in the end, i accepted it, and took her back. I didn't have a choice, i needed her way too much. Because the next day was the funeral.
What followed was a period of intense self discovery for both of us. Moreso for her at first, but also for me. I was trying to make her into someone she didn't want to be, and she was giving back a mere fraction of what she was receiving. So we're calling it quits. Tomorrow will be the last hurrah, and then it will be over. And when it is, and everyone goes to type "OMFG ARE YOU OK?" like they actually care, I'll link this to you all. And those that actually care will know, that I'll be fine. Eventually. Everyone else can fuck off.