scoff wrote:
I mean, I'm actually an adult now. I'm closer to 30 than the age I was when starting this thread all those years ago. A lot of shit has gone down.
I left what has been my hometown ever since I moved out of my mom's place at 16, went an hour or so by car up north. I did that a year ago now. I got a job that I actually like and that doesn't make me anxious when thinking about it. I learned to cook. I found someone who doesn't abuse me - even if I'm not always happy with everything he does (or rather, doesn't do: cleaning, mostly). I got my drivers license. I quit taking the pill, we're planning to have kids. It's time. I've saved up enough money to buy myself a car, when I find one that I want. I don't wanna die anymore, and I don't feel insane or like there's something wrong with me anymore. I feel normal, and that's alright. I feel validated - my patients at work praise the way I care for them, and my boss never wants me to leave. I've a good life, and I rarely ever think about that it actually could be better. It always can. Sometimes you just have to decide that this is it, and settle. Missing opportunities isn't the big deal people make it out to be. This is my life now, and I'm content with that.
I still find myself wondering what was what. What part of the craziness was me still being more or less a teenager, and what part of it was him? What part of it was the drugs, what part of it was the booze? The constant fear, the psychological torture?
Because that's what it was. I'm still sure I had part of it too, because I was fucking out of my mind, but I was nineteen. And that's... I don't know. I really don't know. My friend's abusive ex killed a guy.