20 days until i move out for good. Id say “leave home”, but that house is no home of mine. A home is where you feel loved and safe. All i ever feel when Im there is anxious and on edge. Im always nervous for the next episode. A fucking tempter tantrum. And its always my fault. Of course. That house is unloved. The rooms apart from mine are cluttered and messy. They’re not rooms to enjoy being in. They are rooms for dumping things. So when you are in one it kind of feels like you’ve been dumped yourself.
20 days until i can leave HIM behind. I want nothing more than to stride off and forget all about him. All the anxiety, pressure, feelings of inadequacy - they have all come from him. He has fed me all this negative energy, and i just can’t take it anymore.
20 days. And then im gone for good.
i refuse to be shamed for having a body. i refuse to get embarrassed when a tampon falls out of my bag or spend a whole day anxious about if someones going to notice that i forgot to shave a patch of leg hair. i wasnt put on this earth to spend my time apologizing for my existence and i refuse to let anyone make me feel like i have to waste my energy on all that petty shit
uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh people on facebook are so FUCKING ignorant. It does my head in.
I need to read more, go on the internet less, sleep more, worry less, paint more, procrastinate less, exercise more and junk-binge less.
Fuck it. It’s not going to happen, is it. my body clock and my immune system is already fucked, and I’m always too tense and on edge to do any proper work, not that there is any space around here to do any work anyway. I’d like to do an oil painting but WHERE?
26 days and then that’s it. I start a new page of my life, a brand new one with silky, glossy paper.
All this shit will all just be a distant memory.