I’m in the deepest, darkest area of my ‘pit of depression’ right now. It’s like I’ve followed a maze around the pit and got lost. Should have left a trail of crumbs.
I haven’t been the best girlfriend recently. I told my boyfriend about the two people I have been messing around with behind his back. He didn’t flip out, kick off, slap me, like I wanted him to. I wanted him to physically hurt me for it, or at least argue…but he didn’t. He doesn’t argue. In some ways, that’s fine. Perfect situation. But then he said to me ‘If you love me as much as you say you love me, I know you won’t do it again’. I can’t promise I won’t.
Does this mean I don’t love him? I say I love him, but I don’t know if it truly is the love I want it to be. I want it to be completely trustful, passionate, happy. I asked my boyfriend how he knew he loved me. He brought up the obvious butterflies, unconditional shit. He then threw the question back at me, which I really wasn’t expecting. I had nothing to say. Literally nothing. I don’t know I’m in love.
I always pictured in my mind that the moment I found love, I’d find happiness. I’d stop cutting. I’d stop messing around with worthless cunts. I love myself. But it hasn’t happened. My arms and legs have never been so scar filled.
If this is truly love, where is my happiness? Where are my butterflies?