river papercut by fricktoria on Flickr.

I'm hoping to clear my head, here. Sat in bed with music in the background, my duvet round me, watching the streetlights flicker on one by one outside, I'm trying to remind myself what I'm holding on for, and why. To remind myself that it will happen.

I have always been uncomfortable with the word 'fighter' attached to me. When people tell me I'm fighting, I've been quick to correct them that I'm not, I'm not trying, I'm not being brave, taking no plunges. In the last couple of weeks, though, I've begun to see myself that way. Continually picking myself off the floor and trying to be kind, to be compassionate to myself and just fucking keeping going is the hardest fight I've ever come against. I am beginning to be proud of myself and to see myself as strong, when for me that has only ever been a word to describe other people.

I can get through this. I can get through this. It will get better; it will get better, if you keep going.
Constant mantras to myself.

I find it so hard to believe I'll ever be over Kate, and the thought is really terrifying. She is the closest friend I've had and honestly the only person I believe knows me completely. She is such an important part of my life, and I believe that is part of the problem. When we were together she was constantly acting as rescuer, me as victim; as a result I always needed her too badly. The fact I'm struggling with it so much now says more about that than about how much the relationship actually meant to each of us.

I know I can't rush this healing period and I have to allow myself to grieve but I resent it, I'm humiliated by my own weakness/vulnerability and I'm frustrated I can't make it happen quicker. I know now that I have it in me to heal myself but I'm impatient for it and frustrated with myself, and that is where the self-hatred slips in and the productive compassionate state gets drowned out. I am jealous and angry and I hate myself for that; I am sad and lonely and I hate myself for that, too.

What if it never happens? How do I go about finding someone who knows me and cares about me as much? How do I deal with this?

I have said a thousand times, I would give anything, anything, to be over this, and be able to be her friend. And maybe that desperation is telling of just how not ready I am to do that.

I wish I was ready to go to her exhibition today, to meet her friends and her potential-possible-kind-of-new-girlfriend and be happy for her. But I'm stuck alone at home. I am so profoundly lonely and I don't know how to fix that, except just to keep going, and keep trying, and keep reaching out to the love I still have in my life.

saying again

if you do not teach me I shall not learn

saying again there is a last

even of last times

last times of begging

last times of loving

of knowing not knowing pretending

a last even of last times of saying

if you do not love me I shall not be loved

if I do not love you I shall not love

("Cascando" - Samuel Beckett)