Zorba the Hutt (zorbathut) wrote,
Zorba the Hutt

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Browsing through my LJ, I notice that of the last 20 entries, 4 of them have the current mood of "lonely" . . . and this gets me started on desensitization. I'm sure most people know that if someone's repeated a lot, it will often cease to mean as much - if someone continually insults you, for example, it means less because you know that's just what they do. If someone continually praises you, same difference. My ex and I both agreed that things like "I love you" should only be said when you actually mean them, to prevent that . . .

I'm not sure where this is going, really, except that . . . hrm. When someone's in massive pain, things become more powerful. A simple gesture of appreciation suddenly means orders of magnitude more than it did before.

When I was being torn apart back then, when she was demonstrating virtually no caring about me . . . she *did* say she wasn't going to break up with me. And I was running on that for a while, because it was so incredibly increased in power - it was what I needed to survive.

Then, when I was even worse off, she yelled at me, ignored me, and eventually broke up with me, completely shattering what she'd said in retrospect . . . yes, I work that way. What she said suddenly had no meaning. So that entire week was as if I'd been pulling more and more of myself to pieces because she wanted me to - despite being totally destroyed already.

I can look back a year and say, no, without friends, without the person who is now my ex, I wouldn't have survived, I remember it clearly and it wouldn't have happened.

I look back those three months and some . . . and I wasn't together enough to even remember. A lot of it is just a blur of mental anguish (I started writing pain, but realized that it just didn't express it enough).

So I don't know if I would have survived or not.

I've been told by the few who really know me that I'm stronger than I seem, stronger than I know. That I would have pulled through. I don't know if that's true or not, and I personally doubt it - I know how close I was.

I know that one day I started packing to run away, without any firm knowledge of where I would go . . . and that if things had been slightly different, I would have left.

Universe branching . . . for every decision that is made, a universe branches off, one in which the opposite decision is made. So somewhere, there's a version of me that ran off somewhere - I don't know where. I had a few people I would have begged to take me in. Florida. Toronto. Halifax. California. Those were the only people I trusted enough then . . . and maybe I would have made it there, and maybe I wouldn't have. maybe the cops would have picked me up, like they almost did to my ex when she ran to me, like I managed to talk them out of . . . (and she was mad at me for that, because I had to tell enough of what was going on to convince them that I really was on her side and trying to help her. If I hadn't, she never would have made it here . . . and she was mad at me for that. sigh.)

I don't really know what I was planning to write here, or even if I was planning to write anything. I guess this is enough.
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