I don’t think I’ve ever felt so emotionally, physically, or mentally destroyed in years, since I was 13. I feel like my dignity has been ripped away, my passion slowly decapitated, and everything that I really thought that mattered stomped on several times and left to rot in the dirt. I’ve never felt so worthless, like my state of mind and my entire being could be so raped by someone I trusted so deeply. How could I be so blind and foolish? Deny myself for so long because I believed in someone and something so intensely, was led to think it was a mutual attachment. Why I am here? Why did I do this to myself? And still continue to?

Of course, this is about Wes. I look through my journal and my things and I think what isn’t? How can someone hurt someone so much and not care, not wake up in the middle of the night balling? How can someone be so cold? I remember shouting and pleading to him months ago to just let me go, let me go. And he wouldn’t, he stayed, and I let him for my own blind hope. I remember him telling me he wanted to help me save whatever thing I had left in me, however small it was by then. Yet, in the end it was he who made the final cut, delivered the final blow. I seem to have no passion anymore, no matter how hard I try to feel something again. I can’t, I’m numb. I don’t even have any kind of sex drive anymore. It’s like of lost most of my desire and confidence in life in general. I’m lost here. I’ve become so disillusioned, changed and remolded with so much scar tissue, I don’t know if there’s anything left of me anymore. I just feel this bloody crust on my body, so even as I’m finally in the place I’ve waited so long to be, worked so hard for, given the possibility I’ve wanted for so long, I have no desire for it anymore. I don’t care about anything. I’m cold, hard. I can’t write. I can’t pay attention, I have no interest or orginal ideas anymore. But in the words of Wes—the few but lingering daggers—I may be just “delusional.” I can’t believe it come to this.