cold

I haven't been here in a while.

funny how I separate that word, a while, even when I'm not at work.

I haven't been here for a while and I won't for a bit longer because I can't.

It's Februrary.

It's my birthday.

It's what happened days after my birthday. It's what happened on my birthday.

It's me being a big puddle of emotional goo basically.

It's me getting quiet and still because I can't move. After I've shook and sobbed so hard there's no noise but a gasp curled on my floor, hitting my palms against the wall and clawing at my skin. After that. when it gets quiet. and I don't want it to start again. when it's quiet and I notice the pieces missing.

I don't know if they were ever there. It's this time of year. I can live with most of it. but these...they are the times that count. it's when I count the end. becuase this is when, this is when he saw me.

The rest, I can live with. the rest I can move on with. but this....when it was my birthday and we had really horrible burnt rice and curry and white wine with bits of cork floating in it and he wrestled on the couch and then...and thne...for one....two...three.....a million seconds he saw me. I was there. I was there. I was there. iwasthere. I didn't leave. and something was there. something happened. and he saw me and then...

I wasn't enough. 

he saw me and in that instant saw how ugly I was. not on the outside not just the surface not just the actions or what i could do or what i should do or who i pretended to be.

no. 

that quiet naked scared small root thing thats really YOU deep deep down. he saw it. he saw me. and it wasn't enough. not enough to care, there was the chance right there- the chance to end it and stop it and fix it or know enough see enough give a fuck enough to know he couldn't do that to me. but he saw me and i was ugly. i wasn't a person. 

there was a pause. two years takes seconds to die. and the clock ticked over to 12:06 and he said happy birthday and started. and it started and it hasn't stopped even though I haven't seen him in a year its still there in my head keeping me up and maing me spin and holding me together and tearing me apart because the second before that, the second before he stopped being him stopped being excusable 'oh it was the alchol' 'oh he trusts me' 'oh maybe this means soemthing eventually' when he saw me, when he looked, i thought...I thought......I was stupid.

I wasn't enough enough to stop the next time days later comign over holding me down not stopping hurting and ending me killing me ripping pieces out that i didn't know i had still don't know ever was there adn leaving me........dead and faking being alive. 

three people in my life have known me that well, seen that me, knew that me. and I haven't been enough for any of them.

so maybe he didn';t take anything cause it was missing all along.

and I guess I just got emo here.