The voices in my head sometimes say I don’t want you.
Why? Because you’re “a piece of shit.”
Their words not mine.
Then they go on and detail all the things you do with poop or plan or want to do.
I have dreams about you sometimes, and last nights dream was about going out in public without wearing underwear.
It wasn’t me, it was someone else but the voices said “this is the kind of man she wants” A person that’s ready and can “get it up anywhere” but in my dream, the guy I assume, you made wear a skirt, was limp, impotent, or at least he didn’t get erect by the time I woke up.
Very strange.
I’m not trying to hold on to you, and sometimes I think about just deleting this blog, but there’s nothing I want to say to myself, I want to talk about all of this, with people, and not necessarily in therapy.
It’s a strange position to be in.