Welcome to The Land of the Lost.  Goddamn, motherfuck, shit smeared all over my face, rusty nails up my ass, maggot cock suckers, Mazel Tov Cocktail arsonists, all of this and more in my head!!!

And so.

“You’ve gone through “this” before (or something similar to it?) You’ll survive.  You did then!”

“When one door (or window?) closes, another one always opens!”

If I write anymore of that Pollyanna bullshit people say when you grieve, I’ll puke.  Everywhere.

I’ve been on both sides of the fence, and even straddled it, as far as break ups go.  I’ve usually been the “dumpee.”  However, I’ve also been the “dumper.”  Christ, speaking of puking up there, when I had to dump someone for the first time, I actually did puke–every morning for almost a week before I delivered the fatal blow.

Being the “dumpee” is pretty ugly.  Much worse, I’d say.  One reason being, my ex-friend P. pointed out, is that the “dumper” had whatever degree of time to mull things over, then…BOOM! It gets dropped on the “dumpee’s” head when they have no clue.

Even much more worse, is when the “dumper” hasn’t revealed a damn thing, pretended all is well, and the “dumpee” keeps swallowing buckets of bull-wanked spooge.  Oh, lemme tell ya, that bull spooge tastes so goooooood!

Straddling the fence is a bit weird.  You end up at some sort of impasse.  However, there are always “reasons” that cause relationships to end.  Who’s tipping the balance of the scale? I can only think of two cases and it’s been me.  I’ve been the one that’s felt “the reason.”  I was extraordinarily lucky with those two cases, though.  I managed to remain friends with both of the women.

Now? I’m sorry.  All the Pollyanna bastards and bitches can go straight to Hades.  I’m in a different world.  Wait a sec’…did someone say Hades?

I’ve been turning my computer on/off/on/off etc. for…? I’m just lying in bed (lest somehow hauling myself out for med. appts.)  And if you see me on Twitter, how much of an online mask am I wearing? Maybe I don’t even know! Highly possible!

I’m just sayin’.

A lot of my relationships haven’t lasted very long.  Yet, they did exist.  This one by comparison? It’s like I’ve known them my entire life! Even worse, we had so much in common, it was like we shared one life (on so many levels.)

Uh…Womb Twin Survivor stuff? I can’t decide if I feel like I’ve lost half of myself or not.  Which totally fits for a Womb Twin Survivor! It could also fit simply because of the relationship on its own.

Of course we were different as well.  We had a lot of really great times too.  None of that should ever be forgotten.

But it can’t all be forgotten! Everything, just everything!!! Including the fact that I blew it all apart.  Over and over and over again.  Everyone and everything has their and its limits?

I don’t want to bring the Womb Twin Survivor aspects into it too much, but I fear there is a lot of it involved.  A LOT.  To state such things would turn this post into Satan’s Scripture (did someone say something about Satan’s Play Toy?) But I can’t exactly “apologize” for it.  It’s hardwired.  Nonetheless, it doesn’t make me feel any better about it all.

Maybe someday this person will return after some time.  I’m not bowing down to Satan on all fours praying.  But as always; bridges never burned, doors always open for anyone to come back into my life if they’ve left.

We were always so stubborn to stay together.  Maybe that stubborn streak will show up again in staying apart–again.  No expectations, but nothing would surprise me after all that we have been through.  Including A LOT of surprises!

Back to living in the present? I’ll do my best to “do stuff” when I can manage to crawl out from under my duvet.  When maybe able to do even basic tasks.  Not to mention, stop crying at seemingly nothing worthy of tears on television.  To me, that must be grief, all of my diagnoses making my head explode, or both.

It’s hard to do anything when you don’t care.  Except you do care.  So, so, so very much.

Satan’s a real prick.  Thanks, buddy.  Maybe this relationship was a match made in heaven HELL. *PA sits on Satan’s knee as Satan strokes her hair*

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