Swings and Roundabouts

I’ve just realised i say what i want to write in my head before i write it on here, but i never write the speech i do in my head. I always tame it down.

John’s in there again. My head. I hate me, i want to hate him. I should hate him. Everyone says i should, but i don’t. I love him. But then i think do i? Or is my head playing tricks. Do i wanna be with him or do i want someone to care like he did at one point?

This is bad, but sometimes i think would he cry if i died? I hope he does. I’m a bitch, a horrible person. But i just want him to hurt like he hurt me, i want him to know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out your chest and stomped on. Except i would never want him to hurt that bad. I want him to be happy.

I shouldn’t want that. Should i? I hate me. I just don’t see the point of being here if i don’t even like myself. I can’t die because people do want me here. I wish they knew they are the only reason i don’t grant the one wish i can actually do. I’m being dramatic.

I wanna talk to him. He doesn’t want to know me. I want to run away, away from Nottingham. Away from England so i can’t see him. I can’t talk to him. Running away is bad though.

Want and need are not the same thing. Repeat. I can do/deserve better. Repeat.

I want this prison sentence in my head to be over. Please let me die. There is no other way out. I surrender.

I’m a dick.

Help me. PLEASE.

July 26th 2012