Right. Downhill all the way now. I shouldn't be trying to write and so I stopped. Again.
In behind the front, the flippant, confident inventor of so many silly similes and poetic waxer of cake, lies me. Just Bridget, flaky girl of extremes and irreparably messed up in the head. Coexisting with my own inner monster is sometimes a real fucking bitch.
Nothing changes with that. I started with it. It's still here.
Jacob may care a whole lot more. He's epic in his own right and I'm the luckiest person in the world. But he asks for a promise I can't make still.
(this is where you can go and search my journal for eggshells or unspoken history and you'll see what I mean, I'm not reading that again.)
Bridget. I need you to give me that. I need to know.
I shook my head. I'm not going to make a promise I'm never sure I'll keep. That would be foolish. I can't lie to him.
Tread carefully, Jakey. And I love you even if sometimes I lie and say I don't just to protect you from me.
It must be hard to live with me. I find it easy because if it gets too hard, then I don't have to do it anymore at all. I thought that maybe since it got so hard already that he wouldn't be so afraid but I was wrong.
And still, I shook my head because I can't make it.
He told me he was going to get help for me because this isn't how I'm supposed to be. I hope he keeps his promise because I'm afraid of myself today. I hate this.
