This is a rant that will probably amount to little by the end.
I had a really shit day today. Dug some childhood things up through therapy. Got patronised and told to cheer up while out and about. Felt tightly wound.
Then my ex indirectly hoovered me again for the first time in about four months. The usual thing of loitering around my personal social media spaces (they are blocked, I can’t do anything about this).
It was only a few minutes but it’s enough. It’s not like it dredges up bad memories, as I carry enough of those already. It’s that a part of me is secretly excited by it. That even though it’s a part of their cycle, I at least matter a tiny bit for the time being.
And I hate myself for it. Because it proves my months of ’healing’ haven’t done anything. That all the advice I give on here is meaningless. That I’m just as full of shit as they are.
It’s like a running joke that never ends where the punchline is your own existence.