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Her Misery is What Controls Me
It’s not comfort, and it’s not love. I have to remind myself every day
Wait, is it her misery or mine? Actually, I think it’s a little of both. We feed off one another. Is that what Narcissists do? Maybe, in a sense. But not really.
The misery she is unaware of is the misery I chase to fix in myself.
Does that make sense?
All her flaws are mine that I project on to her. I want desperately to fix in her what I need to fix in myself.
I know, it’s hard to understand.
I struggle with it every day. She constantly shows the shallow love every day that I try and show myself but fail miserably.
How is that?
I know what I need to do and who I need to rid in my life, but I can’t do it because the miserable comfort I wallow in will be no more if i “let go.”
Are you listening?
Not you, but for me, myself. I would ask my girlfriend if she’s listening, but she can’t stomach to read my truth, my pain. She hates what I write, and I would, too, if I treated someone like she treats people.
My truth consists of reliving the horrible acts she has done to me washed down with a bottle of Cabernet to deaden her pain.
