So I tried. I tried to be friends. My new therapist thinks that anxiety can have a purpose. It can tell us that something isn’t right. When she left the anxiety didn’t go away. I thought it was just me, but maybe it was my body trying to tell me something. Today she goes behind my back and asks Sir to come back. She feels bad because she cried herself to sleep. Like I haven’t been doing that for four months. Like she has any idea what real hurt is.
I’m so mad. So much for “I just want to be friends”. I called and told her I never wanted to see or talk to her again. This was the last straw, the last fucking straw.
I wish she had never come into our lives. I wish we could just go back to the way things were.
I need to go pack and put the rest of her stuff on the porch. I want to just throw it in the snow.