Britney

I love her so much, more than anyone else that I know, and that scares me; I am afraid of the power of my own feelings, their ability to morph into something cloying, and of letting the worst parts of the Cancer in me dig its claws into this relationship. I’m afraid of scaring her off, and of her telling me that she’s stopped feeling the same way about me. I don’t want this to be even close to a rehash of the first time that we were together. I have no objective lenses to look at this relationship through, and I never know if I’m being too emotional or if sometimes we aren’t as close as we should be.

I think about my mom a lot. Even when I’m happy, I feel a void within myself where she used to be. There’s a constant dull ache in the space over my heart. I hate it. I keep thinking about what I could have done, what I should have done; I constantly wonder what it would be like if I could go back in time and turn everything around, even though I know how unhealthy that is. My motivation is dwindling, the quality of my writing is deteriorating, and I don’t know how I can be as successful as she wanted me to be when I can barely function.

I spend a lot of time fluctuating between feeling like a zero and not being able to believe how good most things are. I feel like a shell of my former self a lot, which isn’t saying much considering how damaged I feel on a regular basis. I wish I knew what to do. I wish the only option available wasn’t succumbing to all of this—”riding it out,” the way my guidance counselors keep telling me to. Who knew it was possible to feel anchored and lost at the same time? ♦