For the past few weeks I’ve noticed something different about myself. I’m 100%, undoubtedly, and ridiculously…unhappy. I never really understand why though. I feel homesick, and guilty. Guilty for not being there last year while my dad was sick, guilty for not being there when my grandpa died, and guilty that I’m beginning to forget what my brother’s laugh sounded like.
I constantly and consistently feel small, stupid and insignificant to the one person who is supposed to make me feel like I matter more than anything.
I never go out anymore. I sit at home every night and watch Netflix. Not even with him, I watch it in bed by myself.
I go to bed at night, and cry, while a million questions run through my head.
Did I make a mistake? Can I leave? Should I leave? Would he care? Would he be relieved? Is he waiting for me to leave? Is it this town?Am I desirable? Does he still love me? Do I still love him? Would it hurt to die? If I hurt myself, would he notice me? Does he see me? Does anyone see me? Is he bored of me? Do I have any friends? Is he the reason I feel like this? Am I just homesick? Am I just bored? Is it weather depression? Cabin Fever? Is it just stress? Am I sick?
And I feel guilty for thinking these things. Well…some of them.