"temporary" (TW)

I've been depressed the majority of my life.  I wish my dad had killed me, instead, he just broke my will to live.   I guess he didn't want to go to jail for beating me to death, because he certainly hated my existence enough to kill me.  Even when I became broken to his use, his compliant little fuckdoll, he fucking hated me.
I want to die.

Girlfriend

We have been seeing each other for a year now.
Yes I love her.
But I'm using her to help me continue this pathetic, worthless existence.

When I got with her I KNEW she was lying.
She said the polyamory was ok, I knew she was lying.
She said she wanted a casual relationship, I knew she was lying.

I was really lonely.  I had been in a loveless marriage for a long time.
I was in pain to the point of thinking about suicide semi-regularly.
...I'm using her to keep myself from feeling horrible.  I still feel pretty bad, I still wish I had died as a child like I ought to have...Because of her I'm feeling more like staying here.
I have to come to the conclusion I'm just using her to stay alive, really.
Now I feel guilty...well,  I AM guilty.  I can't give her what she wants-all of me.  I am not willing to walk away like I should.

I should have killed myself.

Flowers

My GF sent me flowers.
She's so sweet...why does it make me want to hit myself?   Why would I be more comfortable if she was fairly indifferent to me?
I am thinking about suicide again.
I really need to get life insurance, too. 
At least if I do croak myself in a few years, my  mom and brother will get a cash payout and be able to pay off all their debts.  That way, my dying would actually do them some good, you know?  I'd be doing a good thing.
Admittedly, suicide's generally only covered 3 years into insurance policies...Bummer.

Who's who in Hylie's head #1: Joy

Joy is the part of me that had to be split off and completely locked out of the system.  I found her first...I saw her as an undead child climbing out of a pool of water, water streaming from her mouth and empty eyesockets.

I mentally recreated our old closet, where she buried her drippy self under a pile of stuffed animals.

I would leave a plate of cookies outside the door, and she'd disappear them.

...Eventually we got her dried up and not quite so dead...Then one day, she woke up.

It was like my heart was a NUCLEAR EXPLOSION OF LOVE for about the next six hours.  It was as if everything, EVERYTHING, was precious, beautiful, fresh and fascinating, and the people!  I had to go to the clinic that day... and restrain myself from hugging strangers because they looked like they needed a hug!

I doubt that would have gone over well.

I was calling Joy "Littleme."  She chose the name Joy herself.

One night we were crying and then...Joy was copiloting our body.   She started crying at the big, wrinkly body she inhabited, and she just could not get over the size of my feet!  Also the calluses, and how big my big toes are

I really do have huge feet...

(She says now "They are SOOO big! And SOOO ugly!"  Thanks kiddo... )

I was thinking, "Gee, thanks, kid!"  and kind of laughing at the...well,  truly honest assessment of a six-year-old suddenly finding they were in a 38-year-old body...

But she was saying all this stuff to my blockhead ex-wife, who didn't get that it really wasn't me anymore.  Swear to gawd, the ex wouldn't get a nuance if it smacked her in her forehead.

So she went to get on the computer and talk to "Unca LOU!"

My best friend and/or far away love interest, in England.  Lou told her to go back to bed in a very proper English way, and this made her feel very safe.

This was what really, really led me to start believing I was multiple...especially the feet thing...I mean, I know I take men's size 10 shoes.

Joy likes cookies a lot.Someone at work gave me a couple of cookies, and all of a sudden I LOVED everybody...I was being so lovey, and then I realize...yeah, Joy's out.  The cookies.

The problem being that the amount of cookies I bought is the amount of cookies I am about to eat, so individual serving size package is mandatory.



Joy is the part of me that had to be split off and completely locked out of the system.  I found her first...I saw her as an undead child climbing out of a pool of water, water streaming from her mouth and empty eyesockets.

I mentally recreated our old closet, where she buried her drippy self under a pile of stuffed animals.

I would leave a plate of cookies outside the door, and she'd disappear them.


...Eventually we got her dried up and not quite so dead...Then one day, she woke up.


It was like my heart was a NUCLEAR EXPLOSION OF LOVE for about the next six hours.  It was as if everything, EVERYTHING, was precious, beautiful, fresh and fascinating, and the people!  I had to go to the clinic that day... and restrain myself from hugging strangers because they looked like they needed a hug!

I doubt that would have gone over well.


I was calling Joy "Littleme."  She chose the name Joy herself.

One night we were crying and then...Joy was copiloting our body.   She started crying at the big, wrinkly body she inhabited, and she just could not get over the size of my feet!  Also the calluses, and how big my big toes are

I really do have huge feet...

(She says now "They are SOOO big! And SOOO ugly!"  Thanks kiddo... )

I was thinking, "Gee, thanks, kid!"  and kind of laughing at the...well,  truly honest assessment of a six-year-old suddenly finding they were in a 38-year-old body...


But she was saying all this stuff to my blockhead ex-wife, who didn't get that it really wasn't me anymore.  Swear to gawd, the ex wouldn't get a nuance if it smacked her in her forehead.

So she went to get on the computer and talk to "Unca LOU!"


My best friend and/or far away love interest, in England.  Lou told her to go back to bed in a very proper English way, and this made her feel very safe.

This was what really, really led me to start believing I was multiple...especially the feet thing...I mean, I know I take men's size 10 shoes, I have big feet.  She was seeing our body for the first time since age 6.


Joy likes cookies a lot.   Someone at work gave me a couple of cookies, and all of a sudden I LOVED everybody...I was being so lovey, and then I realize...yeah, Joy's out.  The cookies.


The problem being that the amount of cookies I bought is the amount of cookies I am about to eat, so individual serving size package is mandatory.
Something else...Joy was actually floating in a pool of tears.  I realized the only way to get those tears out, drain all the grief, was to cry those tears.     I'm working on it.

Entry june 13

My girlfriend came and picked me up, took me over to her house, and loved on me.  I seriously contacted her on a dating site because she had kind eyes.  She has kind everything else, too.
I was flipping out, and being with her calmed me down a lot.

That is all.

Bryan T White

I called him "diaper Bryan."

I have another friend who's name's Brian, that's "shotgun Brian."

Diaper Bryan was into diapers, obviously. He was also goodhearted, bright, spastic, sharp, funny in a very warped way...and tormented.

He believed he'd been sexually abused as a toddler.  I think he was right. I think he may have been DID as well.  We'd become good friends over the year or so we'd communicated.

He passed away on May 20th, and I just got word.   I don't know what happened, whether he did OD again or whether his body gave out due to the previous attempts.

He was a good and kind human being.

He will be greatly missed by many.

who I really am

People think I'm this nice person.
Bullshit.
My long-time friend sent me a Christmas card and I threw it in the trash, unopened.
Last year while my mind was coming apart, he would call me...and this was bad.  By the time I'd stopped shaking from the phonecall he'd hung up.  If I did not take his call, he'd bloody call over and over and over.
Several times I nearly decided to throw my phone onto the concrete and smash it.
...Then he took it as a sign of disrespect that I never called him...
I asked if I could email him...I can handle emails better.  But he doesn't like emails, no, it's gotta be these little nerve-rattling phonecalls in which he is no longer able to understand how bad I feel because he's on antipsychotics and positive thinking, and I'm feeling like I'd rather be dead all the time...
So he insists that I call him. 

I can't.  I just can't.  I'm fucking going crazy.  He can't understand how crazy I am going.  He takes it as disrespect. No.  It's that I was so very horribly off that I had NOTHING TO GIVE ANYONE.  I was struggling for my life.
He couldn't get that.  He didn't get that.  And now I don't want him for a friend anymore.
I'm an asshole. That's who I am.


....I fucking hate the holidays.   There's never any way to escape some reminder of someone I failed.