I feel so lonely.

I really want to just hide. I want to sleep and eat and smoke weed and just feel comfortable and numb and avoid all the pain I'm in.

I hate, hate, hate, hate this. I am so angry at Louis for what he's done to me, for what he's doing to me.

It's over. I could never be with him again. I could never trust him again. I trusted him so much and he took advantage of me and he'll never admit or acknowledge it. He wrote a long rambling message in my last guestbook which was tremendously inappropriate, and he said something about how could I think that after all the pain he's gone through, that he'd ever hit me again? What the fuck? What about all the pain I'm in?

I feel floating, adrift, lost. I feel as if my innocence has been ripped from me. I fear becoming ugly and jaded and resentful and bitter and distrustful. Yet someday I really do want to love and trust again.

And of course, I've still got this looking over my shoulder feeling. Why the fuck can't he accept that it's over? I think I may need to move this again. My whole life has been uprooted, just because I loved someone and he fucked me over.

I'm pretty damn mad right now.

And I just HURT. I feel SO lonely. Not that my friends and family don't love me and wish the best for me. But right now I'm sitting in Brian and Keith's living room typing and I just want to be held by someone I can feel safe with.

(I have happy memories of being 16 or 17 at art camp and being upset and my friends Dara and Joanna and Jonathan and Ken giving me a group hug, holding me, wiping my tears, stroking my hair.. I still hold onto that memory as one of the most lovely displays of love I've ever known.)

I never deserved this. All I ever did was love him the best I could. He'll never believe me, but even though he could be so sweet and wonderful and loving, other times he belittled me, terrorized me, degraded me, discounted me, confused me, hurt me. I never thought that someone who loved me could do that to me.

It's going to take me a long time to work through this. And he won't leave me alone. I hate it. It's over. I didn't want it to be, I wanted things to be the way I thought they were. But they can't be something they weren't. I feel like I was living a lie.

And how much I fear he's reading this. How much I fear he's disapproving and angered by my words. Sometimes I feel like he could only love me when I fit into his image of me. I'm so tired of defending myself. Of trying to be understood.

One Friday night, soon before I left him, before he hit me the last time, he was fooling around with me and rubbed Vapo-rub on my face, getting it into my mouth. I got mad and told him I didn't like what he did. We were waiting for the bus to go home, and he was furious with me for the way I expressed my disapproval. He grabbed me by my necklace and pulled me to him in a rage. All because of the way I expressed my unhappiness at what he did.

Jesus fucking Christ! If I had done something like to him (which I wouldn't have), and he didn't like it, even if he was snippy about it, I would have been genuinely apologetic. I wouldn't have wanted to hurt or annoy him.

So we're waiting for the bus, and he said that he just wasn't going to talk to me the entire ride to the apartment. He was reading one of my books and listening to a CD on my CD player. I didn't want to ride alone while he gave me the cold shoulder, so I asked him to lend me the book or the CD player. He wouldn't - he was using both of them.

I cried most of the way home. I slept alone on the couch and cried myself to sleep. He woke me up angrily the next morning to tell me he needed to borrow my ATM card. I didn't want to because he'd been so angry at me the night before, but he got angrier, and frankly I was too scared not to.

He came back after his appointment with my ATM card, still giving me the cold shoulder. He barely said anything to me all day Saturday, and I slept alone again. Sunday morning I finally went into the bedroom and cried my eyes out, begging him to just talk to me and acknowledge my existence. I barely remember that morning, except that he was still angry with me and I had to apologize profusely for him to finally talk to me.

What the fuck?? What the hell did I do to deserve being treated like that? Nothing! He treated me like shit for no reason. I don't deserve that. I don't deserve that!!!!! Motherfucker!!!!!

And if he's reading this I wouldn't be surprised if he's convinced I'm remembering things wrong or making a big deal out of nothing. I don't care.

How often he told me I was too sensitive. Anytime I was unhappy with the way he treated me, he discounted my feelings and told me I was misunderstanding him or not trusting him.

Jesus fucking Christ! How many times did he do something mean or untrustworthy, and then when I'd question it, he'd call me distrustful! And it would hurt him so much, and I never wanted to hurt him, so I took it.

Even now, as angry as I am, I don't want to hurt him. Although part of me does, part of me wants to take up the offer to have his legs broken, I don't really. I hate violence, and while part of me wants him to know what it's like to be terrified, I don't wish that on anyone.

I just hate this so much.