never really felt like this before. it's a good thing - the breakup is a good thing. she was mean, and enjoyed being mean. i'm too soft, too sensitive; i wasn't built to take what she can give out. i danced around and bent over backwards and denied my own needs to keep her happy and keep myself safe. i questioned my physical safety on several occasions. any time i tried to stand up for myself and express my feelings, she used everything she'd learned about me and my most vulnerable places to pummel me into the ground. she broke my heart a long time ago, and got in a few good kidney punches during the breakup last night. which was on my birthday. which i'm pretty sure hadn't crossed her mind once until i mentioned it. she is incapable of decentering herself from her worldview. she has found someone willing to pay for everything in her life, so she has completely disconnected from the world and lives in such a way that is diametrically opposite to the way i view the world. our values could not be further out of alignment with each other, and she seemed to enjoy hurting me because of it. the last text she sent me was the longest text message i have ever received, and they were the cruelest words anyone has ever said to me. i feel like i've been kicked in the ribs.

i made the mistake of falling in love with this person. i'd never fallen in love before. i want cuddles. in the past, when i'd asked for cuddles, she turned it into a small-scale fight - which she would vehemently deny. she'd say if i chose to view her words and tone and behavior as aggressive and hurtful, that's on me and she can't do anything about it, and if i could name one time that her words and tone and behavior hurt me then maybe i'd have a point but since i couldn't do that (and this hypothetical time wouldn't count, because if i'm hurt it's because i chose to be) there's no way she could ever be responsible for causing anyone pain.

she is selfish and takes the world for granted.

and she broke my heart into a bunch of little pieces and i just want some cuddles.

this is an astronomically long shot, all things considered, but after weeks of searching for a hyper-specific anthology of my favorite poet's work i finally found one! it's $20 and while i simply can't justify spending any money on non-essentials at the moment, i am also *dying* to read this thing. i would be happy to pay you back when i get paid at the end of the month. i know i could always just wait until then to buy it but i'm just so excited i figured the worst that could happen (the most likely, too) is this message in a bottle disappearing into the waves. best case scenario is someone makes this puppygirl very very happy ✨✨

a sample of marina tsvetaeva's work that i've simply become hooked on this year:

For my poems, written so early
That I didn't even know I was a poet,
Hurled like drops from a fountain,
Like sparks from rockets,

That burst like tiny devils,
Into the sanctuary of sleep and incense,
For my poems about youth and death
-- For my unread poems!

Scattered in dusty bookstores,
Where no one ever buys them!
For my poems, like precious wines,
A time will come.

i don't expect nukes. just surface-to-air ballistics. i've gone over the words to say again and again. the monologue is fine-tuned. but it's not gonna be a monologue, it'll turn into a dialogue i have no control over and cannot predict. I have a support system beyond my parents. they're not going to disown me or kick me out. I've been medically and socially transitioning for almost exactly a year - the anniversary is the end of the month. i've kept it from them because I haven't wanted to clean up the mess the conversation will likely leave. it didn't feel like something for them - it was something for me, and for nearly a year i relished having something - having this thing - that was just for me and the people i chose to keep close. but it's time to move into the next chapter of the story, and i can tell because of how bloody sick i am of duplicity. duplicity, and sneaking around, and holding this thing so close to myself because i was afraid that they'd break it. the truth felt delicate and i didn't want them to look at or talk about it, much less handle it and make it partly their own. it worked for a year. and it doesn't work any more.

they're going out of town for the day in the morning. i'm going to wake up early to catch them before they leave. maybe it'll be perfect - a quick chat before they leave and can spend all day thinking about it and talking about it themselves.

writing this all out feels lonelier than i thought it would.

if anyone out there has some hype i can borrow, i promise to return it.