I Can Hear A Fox - 19.05.25

It is 1:21am and I am in my hometown. Why do I always write these in the night? A fierce river of thoughts has broken through my promise to give myself an early night, and I am here again, so late, typing into another document. I feel strange, lately. My ups and downs have been extreme. Over the past few weeks, I have been seeing - again, but that went where it always does: an illness-riddled argument that evolves into an agreement to stop seeing each other. I don't miss him as much, this time, however. Some of what he said really hurt me, and I realised through this argument that I had hurt him much more than I realised. That old guilt, thick as led inside me, always seems to find me. Like it's a hot metal rod just inches from my back, waiting until I slouch to shock me back into a straightened posture. I feel this is one of the most difficult things about having BPD: you can never trust your emotions for even a moment because they are ALWAYS extreme and extremity in any direction will inevitably hurt people. I slouched on my emotional upkeep and now the guilt is back. But, to be honest, I am not sure if I want to speak much on this. I was so expecting it to go this way that I am almost relieved it has happened. - had never really changed from the awful things he did in January, and despite my recent therapy breakthroughs, I had not fully changed either. If my obsessive, rose-tinted way with him had changed, I would never had started seeing him again in the first place. It still hurts, though, because despite the clear signs that he is still the same unregulated boy, I worked like a dog to convince myself something was different this time. Moreover, it still hurts because I still love him and I can tell he loves me, too. We are just not compatible the way we both are, right now. What an aching thing.