crumpled after written

I just wanted out. I didn't pack, I didn't even think about packing. It's not like I have anything. My meds, maybe, but whatver, I don't even take them properly right now. I know I mess them up, even if I try not to. But I wanted out. I wanted to be done with this place, and everyone in it. I'm used up, there's nothing left.

Brett's gone. And I know this time he isn't going to be back. It's funny, how I always had that paralyzing fear--that he'd leave and then not return--and I always had that certainty that I'd never see him again but this time it feels different anyways. This time, it feels like it's truly over. That it won't matter what I do, he's never coming in my direction again, and even if I let myself fall, even if I left town, he wouldn't know about it.

There's something that kills me about the entire thing, and it's not that he's gone. It's that he chose a job he hates over me. Part of me understands it, especially knowing him, but that doesn't make it any better. Nothing quite says 'you don't matter' like that. It's even insult to injury considering it isn't a job he loves, it isn't something that he's enjoying, it's something that drives him into the ground, and it's working in an institution he hates. That's what I've been traded for. And I know that we weren't even together, but there was that thread. There was something left there between us, some possibility that I know I didn't believe in, but even that's gone now. Maybe it was just fate, or I was seeing things accurately, maybe it was a self fullfilling prophesy. I don't know. I just know that I've never felt lower. I've never felt worse.

This trumps everything. It outweighs being beaten and left in a dumpster outside the Round. It beats being choked then left for dead in an alley. It beats my mother staring at me with that hate in her eyes as she took another drink from her bottle, and told me if I was that hungry I'd find something myself. It beats the understanding that dawned in when I realized that money had changed hands, and my father was leaving me there in the apartment with a strange man. It beats everything.

He never should have told me what he did. The L word. I think it changed part of how I thought about things, and all that's happened within it has been crushing disappointment. It makes it all so much worse, to have that handed out then being shown over and again how much it doesn't matter. I didn't believe in it before, and if he'd never gone there, I think this would have been at least a little easier. I wouldn't have deep down wondered if maybe it was true. No. I need to be honest here. I believed him.

In the end, I've never felt so worthless in my life. I've never felt so useless, so disposable, so inconsequential. I think what's made it worse was for just a second there, while I was out with Patrick, I felt slightly better. Like there was some glimmer of something beyond this worthless feeling in the air. Of course, then he turned around and told me how much I didn't matter. Funny, how he chose words that perfectly fit into how I'd been feeling before. And I know I shouldn't let it get to me. But how he said it, it was like I'd finally taken a breath after feeling frozen and I got slapped down for it. Like I couldn't even have a moment.

I want out. I want to disappear. I want to not be here, to not be going through life feeling like I'm suffocating. I feel like I can't get enough air, like I can't breathe. Like I can't move, like the entire world is wrong. But if the entire world is wrong, then the real problem isn't the world, it's me. Because the world isn't wrong. If there's an ill fit, it's right here.