The moment when you bring up your irrational behavior and hate of yourself, the admission of not sleeping three nights because of fever anxiety offset by sleeping for hours during the day in a depressive mood and you mention just the title of the book your therapist recommended you read and both friends say, “Oh, you’re borderline” that suddenly everything clicks. Everything clicked. I’m almost certain I have and my doctor and therapist believe me to have borderline personality disorder.

If only this realization made me easier to love.

Handsome Pants

I want an apology. I want an “I’m sorry for dating you for over 6 months and breaking up with you over the phone”. I’m sorry got continuing to sleep with you when I no longer had feelings for you. I’m sorry I cheated on you. I have proof, want to know, call me, we’ll chat. I’m sorry for saying you were the biggest person you ever dated then dumped. For lying to me. Got saying I was a catch then dumping me. I just want an apology so I can move the fuck on.

I won’t even tell you about what a piece of shit you are. I won’t mention that I wish I’d never met you. I won’t mention that my kids ask about you. That I want my door fixed. That I want all the things you’d mentioned you’d do for me done like painting the trim, fixing my floor, digging up roots in my yard. I want all of those nearly 7 months back so I can give them to someone who really cares about me because clearly you didn’t.

So fuck you and everything about you.

Sober as fuck right now. Bitter as hell.