Maybe. I don't know. Maybe my emotions aren't in the right order. Maybe I'm confused. Maybe I'm lonely. But there's no 'maybe'. I am lonely. And I am confused. And my emotions are never in the right order. I want something that doesn't exist. And I want to flagellate myself for wanting that thing. You're not hurting me, I'm hurting me. And my eyes water because you're it - you're the only person I want. And you're purposely ignoring that. But I can't blame you. Because look at me: I am a mess. There are no words to describe what a fuck up I am. I can't do anything right. I can crochet, I can't cook, I can't drive. And I can't trick you into thinking you want me. No matter how much I try.
And I'm in a weird place now, mentally and physically. Physically, I'm far away. As far as possible, almost. But that doesn't matter. Because even when I'm in Carrick Beg, I'm still a million miles away from reality, a million miles away from getting what I want. And mentally? Well, I don't know. Mentally, I just can't accept it. Actually, no. I can accept it. In fact, I do. But I don't want to. So I refuse to. I will not allow myself to accept a world that doesn't have you in it. Because I'm a sap. Because although I might think myself low on options, on alternatives, I'm really not. I have options. I have alternatives. I sort of have this person who goes out of their way for me. But they're not you. And that's the only thing that matters. And it will forever be the only thing that matters because I will never, ever change it. I will never allow someone to be your substitute or your replacement or anything. And no matter how lonely I am now, or how sad or sexually frustrated, I won't let up. Because it's just you. And it will always be just you.
But I can't do anything right. Every thing I do wrong these days is just another in a long list. But now I'm drinking wine and I'm feeling sorry for myself and I'm just not caring what the world thinks. You're the only thing that matters and you're a million miles away and it's not going to work, is it? What I wouldn't give to have you here. To have anyone here. To curl up beside me and drink wine and sleep on my tiny air mattress with me and hug me and kiss me and tell me they love me. Why can't I be in love? I'm very good at being in love. It's about the only thing I am good at.
I want to do ridiculous things. I want to be at home. And despite everything, I want to be with you. Because you seem like my last hope. Hope, or something like it.