It's bee almost two years since I've posted on here.  Why?  I don't know.  But I can tell you that it is very strange to look back at what I had written.  Some of it I haven't thought of in all this time.  Many make me hurt all over again.

As depressed as I was then, I long for those times.  I would love to go back and change things.  Make things turn out better.  Everything has only gotten worse.  I had posted about Matthew, my boyfriend, not letting me go to his stupid karaoke night for a while, but I didn't inform you that I felt like he was cheating on me.  Really, who could blame me?  Something that we have done together once a week since we met and he suddenly won't allow me to go?  That isn't fucking normal.  What really put that in my mind was that he came back with a woman's name and e-mail address on a karaoke slip.  He set it on the desk in plain site, so at first I thought that it couldn't be someone he was cheating with because he would hide it.  I went in later to tease him and say, "Picking up those bar whores, eh?" but I came to find that it was no longer there.  It seemed that he had no intended to leave it there long enough for me to find it.  I became upset and went in the room to be alone in my misery.  He found me and asked what I was freaking out about.  I told him and he said that it was the e-mail address of that chicks husband or brother or something who needed a drummer, which Matthew is.  He said that he had to put it back with the other karaoke slips.  After a while he started to let me go again, but he was always off somewhere else in the bar while I sat there alone, being hassled by drunk. This made me even more suspicious.

Anyway, I became very ill one night and couldn't go.  I was emotional because I was sick and wanted more than anything for him to stay home with me and comfort me.  No, he had to go to karaoke but he said that he would be home early.  Time passed and he didn't show.  So I jumped in my jeep and went there.  Being ill and already having suspicions that the man you love is fucking someone else can really mess with you.  Anyway, I went in and said that he had better not be messing around with some bar whore behind my back.  He asked if I wanted his key to the house and I said, "No, I won't be there when you get home."  Meaning that I was going to my sisters to chill out.  Yeah, it makes it sound like I was leaving him, but if I was leaving him, I would have taken the key so that I could get my shit.  He came out as I was getting ready to drive off and asked me what was going on.  Then he had to get out to say goodbye to some friends of his.  I took this to mean that he didn't really give a shit about what was going on and drove off.  After sitting at my sister's and watching tv for two hours or so (watching Cheaters)  I figured that Matthew would have to be home by then and I had calmed down, so I went there.  He wasn't home.  So I drove around hoping that he wasn't dead and couldn't find him.  Then I went back home and thought to drive my truck up under the window and get in that way.  Then I started to pack my stuff because I figured that he was off fucking a bar whore.

Alas, I couldn't bring myself to leave without knowing that he was okay.  I called hospitals and he wasn't at any of them then I sat and watched Singing In the Rain until he showed up after five in the fucking morning.  To this day, I wish that I had just left and never knew what he had done.

Anyway, he came in and was saying things like, "I can't believe what I saw.  I don't want to think about it or ever see it again."  Crazy stuff like that.  I thought that he either fucked someone else or witnessed a mass murder.  After a while he told me that he just kissed someone else, but, even though that hurt me, I didn't understand why he would be acting that way.  So we went to bed and the next day, while he was taking a bath, I called the person he was with and asked him.  The guy said that Matthew did fuck someone else, but that he had left by then and found out only five minutes before I called him.

As hard as things were before then, my world fell apart.  It shattered.  I felt like he was killing me.

I'll continue this later.  I can't deal with going any further right now.

I just had another fight with my boyfriend.  Big fucking shock there.  I can hardly breathe and it feels like someone is squeezing my heart.  I feel another migraine coming on and my eyes feel heavy yet I wouldn't be able to sleep if I tried.

He said that I'm acting like a psycho and he is most likely right.  At this point, I don't fucking care.  I just want him to do what he says he's going to do.  His lies are really starting to get to me.  My legs ache with the need to run.  I can't tell if it's the RLS or my body just wanting to get away from here...from the way I feel the majority of the time...waking and sleeping.

I've become so powerless and pathetic.  It seemed worse when I was powerless and pathetic and alone and fat, but I'm starting to prefer that.  At least people weren't there to criticize me...as often anyway.  Two years...two long years, I was like that.  I finally found my freedom and had it for four or five months and then I met him.  He wasn't the one who caused me to get where I am.  Hell, he's only ever tried to help me...to take care of me.  I quit two jobs in a row (both the exact same thing).  The first one I went into knowing that major changes needed to be made.  Promises of those changes were made, but the actual changes themselves weren't.  When the lives of innocent animals is at stake then there is a huge problem.  I finally gave up on that shit hole and was offered another job doing the same thing only a lot more.  The promised that they wouldn't be the same way, but they were...if not worse.  Oh, I also didn't get paid the first three months, at least, because they were trying to get off the ground and couldn't afford it.  They were finally able to start paying me and then they turned into jerks.  I quit that place as well and immediately fell into a major depression.  Going from working about 60 hours a week (for nothing and then eventually getting paid about the same as a slave child in a third world country) to nothing can fuck with you.  Trust me.

The first week after that I took benadryl (which knocks me out and, for some unknown reason, makes me extremely irritable for about three days after taking it) every time I woke up long enough to be aware of anything.  The few times that week that I didn't take it long enough to be awake for a few hours nearly demolished my relationship with my boyfriend.  If it weren't for the fact that my jeep basically blew up not long before that than I would have gone through with my fantasy "get away". Alas,  I had only two choices on a particular night in which everything had really gotten to me; either walk to go through with my "get away" plan or walk to my sister's and hang out there.  I went to my sister's place...which I regret every now and then.  That resulted in a huge argument with my sister which was what threw me over the edge.  The only reason I didn't go through with the "get away" plan at that point was because my sister would have blamed herself.  Anyway, I finally gave up and was going to just go "home"...not that I can consider it that anymore.  My boyfriend says that I have a home now...that his home is my home.  It doesn't feel like it.

I don't even remember what I was getting at.  The panic attack is starting to wear off...much sooner than usual.  I suppose typing out what's on my mind helps.  I feel like I've finished up a race.  My heart and lungs still burn, but they're slowly and steadily going back to normal.  They won't get there within the next half hour, but it feels better now than it did when I started this post.  I'm exhausted again, but I'm not so sure that I could go to sleep beside him right now.  He'll most likely be asleep so I don't know why I'm so worried.  He never seems to have a hard time getting to sleep when I'm the one having the panic attacks.  I'm not sure that he knows that I have them.  He seems to like to think that he's the only one that experiences them.  We have so much more in common than he realizes.  I'm ashamed to tell him though.  Perhaps I'm afraid that he'll lose faith in me...that I won't be able to help him if he knows.  I finally told him that I have OCD.  It got extremely bad in high school.  There was a point when I just refused to let it run my life.  There are still some things that I do, but I don't always have to do them.  Sometimes I can make myself not do them, but there are those times that I must.  Sometimes that is the only way my mind will get anything even remotely close to rest.

I wish that I could just "not be".  If I leave him then I will regret it for the rest of my life.  I will hate myself and he will hate me.  As much as I would like to, I could never kill myself.  That would be so selfish...making those who actually care about me suffer like that and live with that.  I can understand why one would want to die, even by their own hand, but I don't understand how anyone could feel okay about doing that to the people around them.  Anyway, if I stay with him, than it will most likely keep on going the way it is and we'll both be miserable.  He'll most likely eventually have enough of me and betray me just like everyone else.  He has sworn over and over again that he would never do that to me, but he does tend to say one thing and do another.

Well, hot damn!  That's why it bothers me so much!!!  I didn't actually know why until just then.  Tonight our argument was over the fact that he said that he was going to do one thing and then did another.  He thought that I was being ridiculous and "psychotic", which I'm sure he was right, but there was a reason behind my madness.  Can one blame me?

I wish I could talk to him about it, but he's surely asleep by now.  That poor man...he shouldn't have to put up with me.  He deserves so much better.

Zilch.

I've been trying.  I've really been fucking trying this whole "make yourself be happy" shit.  I am convinced that it is impossible, especially when one is in a relationship.

Why I ever let myself get into this fucking relationship is beyond me.  I knew that it would be fucking terrible.  That's why I rarely dated at all before I met him and that is why I never took dating seriously when I did date.  I was twenty-four when I met him.  When I realized that I was in love with him I was terrified. I know the exact moment that I fell in love with him.  It was around three on October 14th 2007.  I was sitting in my vehicle watching him open and close the jeep door over and over again.  He had done it at least forty times when the thought, "I love him" sprang into my head out of no where.  I was shocked and terrified and the next thought that came was, "What the hell are you thinking?"  As I watched him open and close the door some more an inner battle went on with in me.  The part of me that never wanted to fall in love, the part of me that never wanted to be trapped in the shit hole that I'm in now screamed for me to say nothing.  To just let him finish his OCD thing, say goodnight, and leave.  That side of me kept telling me that he wouldn't feel the same way and to just let this relationship dwindle on it's own.  The other side of me watched him in his frustration at having to open and close that door over and over, not wanting to do it and that side of me told me that he needed to know.  That not telling him was unfair.

So, like the complete and utter moron that I am, I said his name and beckoned him to lean into the vehicle and I did the most terrifying thing that I had ever done.  I whispered, "I love you."  He smiled and looked happier than I had yet seen him and said, "I love you too.  I really do."

This relationship isn't completely horrible.  I can't let anyone think that.  He is the most amazing person that I have ever met.  I love him more than I ever thought possible, but that only makes it hurt worse.

There have been a whole two and a half hours in this day thus far.  My boyfriend got online to check his e-mail "real quick" just a few minutes after midnight.  After a while he came in a said that a friend of his was having girl problems.  He got off around 1:50.  I've been on for about fifteen minutes now.  There is a shit load of porn on the website history for today.  Yeah, he was really "comforting" his friend.  I fucking hate it when people lie to me and he's been lying to me too fucking often.  Personally, I think it's pretty fucked up when a man will lie like that to be online to jack off to internet porn while his girlfriend lays in bed waiting for him.  He had said that he would watch a movie with me. 

I fucking hate myself for falling in love with him.