Bella

Everything on the internet is liable to be fiction. Keep this in mind. 

I’ve been feeling quite awful. My husband, from whom I am separated, served me divorce papers on our anniversary that doubled as the Fourth of July. This wounded me because though I didn’t want to be married, I didn’t want to be divorced. I thought he felt the same. My estranged sister came back into my life and sobbed on my shoulder. I found her annoying and told her we are better off estranged. 

No bookstore in all of Manhattan will hire me. This is fair because I give them no reason to besides a flaccid interest. I am abandoning my family, 3 older and 3 younger brothers, because something in our home is making me sick—I suspect it's mercury poisoning. They keep tuna stocked in the cupboards and I can’t help myself.

I will return when I’m stronger. This will probably be after two months of wallowing because I can’t eat tuna. Some of them still don’t know. I have put it off because it hurts my pride, plus conversations make things pompous. I’d like to return as if only one night has passed. 

I fell in love once and its failure left a gaping hole. I find most experiences are like this. Ecstasy is the feeling of being pierced. Sometimes moments scrape the sides but most of the time they flail in a cavity. Often the whole is never filled again. I’m not describing addiction, but I might as well be. Nothing will ever be as good as my first can of tuna in oil. My problem is after experiencing ecstasy, I fear I never will again. This is not true. It’s proven time and time again. Other holes are pierced. I am a junky, I am, I am, I am. My name is Bella and I’m a junky. I promise new holes will be pierced. I promise. I am right.

grizzly

        I'm surprised by how afraid I am. I’ve never thought of myself as afraid, I think because I’m confident-reckless. I make a lot of last-minute decisions that often lead to good things and then admire myself for them afterward. I can see a few steps ahead so I don’t think these decisions are reckless. they're just decisions. You can consider quite a lot in a minute.

I made a bad decision and I knew it was bad before I made it. I told w that I was about to make a bad decision and he said okay because I told him I had no other choice. I’m now suffering because of this decision and trying to get out of it. It’s working so far, but I’m dreading taking responsibility, dreading so much that I could puke. I don’t blame myself for making it because I had to but I’m disappointed that I'm so afraid to make it right. Rise, rise! The matter is more complicated than this.

I’ve just been bad lately. bad at my job, bad at being good, bad in my executions, bad at pretty much everything. Just bumbling away (I have no reason not to...). It’s because I’m disdainful. because I’m suffering from this bad decision I made. But I had no other choice! If I had someone right next to me I wouldn’t mind taking responsibility, but these things you have to do alone, or over text. Once I’m good it’ll be good. 

Peace feels so far away. Come back! I’ll be back for you. So soon. My body's too hostile a place for you now. All I can do with every part of me is get out of this decision.