Last night was terrible and then great. I ran away again. I tried telling my boyfriend that I really needed to go but he didn’t get it and he just went about his business like I was just going to snap out of it.
I was spiraling out of control so badly and I didn’t know what to do. When he told me he wouldn’t take me home, everything intensified. The panic, like a caged animal. I started walking a 6 hour walk. He yelled at me to come back and I don’t know what I was doing but my legs kept moving. The voices were battling it out but my legs just wouldn’t stop. I had to get out of there. What would I do when I got where I was going? I don’t know. Did I even want to get there? Not really. I was fucked up. I reached out to my sister only to tell her to not find me and let me be. I don’t need anyone. I can walk. I can do this by myself.
Well a couple of people had left the party and happened to pass me a few miles down the road and told my boyfriend. Apparently he thought I was just at the end of the driveway. He didn’t take me seriously at all. I told him I was walking home and that’s what I was doing.
He came pulling up. I got in. I lost it. Crying. Threw my purse. I was suffering. I still am. I always have been and probably always will be. I can’t lose him.
I agreed to go back and I sat in the car for a bit and gathered myself and then I got out and got involved in the games and had fun. I’m glad he got me. I don’t know where I’d be right now or if I would even still be alive. I had a lot of unsafe shit going on in my head.
Feeling shameful today but trying not to think about it. It’s exhausting.