Make-believe: a pretending that what is not real is real

I cannot handle seeing my mom like this. I know she cried, her eyes look redder than they should. And I cannot handle that she feels sad because of me. I don’t want her to feel sad.
I should be the one making her smile, not be the cause of her sadness.

I have decided that when I’m at home, I’m going to try and pretend that everything is alright. Okay, I still need to find a way to get out of bed, but I promised my mom I’d go to the cinema with her today. And maybe if I -really- push myself, I can take her shopping on Monday. I really really really really really really really really don’t want to go, but if I go out with her and can reassure her I’m doing okay, maybe she won’t be that sad anymore. If I can convince her that I’m alright, everything will turn back to normal and I won’t feel that everyone around me is walking on eggshells. I don’t want that, I just want everyone to be happy. Don’t worry about me, I’ll get through this. I’ve decided to take the anti-depressants after all, so in three weeks my emotions will be regulated better and everything will be same old, same old.

Yesterday, she asked if maybe going on vacation would lift my spirits. I am tempted to book a hotel somewhere and just lie in bed there instead of here, so she doesn’t see me struggle and thinks I’m having fun. I did that in Japan once. I literally was in Japan for two weeks and didn’t do anything besides staying in bed.

I talked about my relationship/friendship with M. to my therapist. She asked me what -I- desired in a relationship. I couldn’t answer. She asked me what I at least wanted to -feel- in a relationship. And again I couldn’t answer.
I’ve been thinking about her questions since then. Our next appointment is this Friday already, but I’m unsure whether I’ll be able to answer her then. I simply don’t know.

She also said that M. must have triggered something I had buried so well for so long. I don’t know what it is, and I’ve been trying to figure out why exactly I’m so keen on clinging to him so tightly. It’s unfair to him as well, because I know he cannot cope with it. He’s the one person I had allowed in after so long, and the one person who made me feel happy for awhile, the one person I want nothing more than to cuddle with and just forget about everything else, the one person whom has figured me out so much it scares me, but he’s also the one person whom I cannot ask to save me, as I know I cannot request that from him. It would be unfair to him having to carry that burden, knowing he doesn’t care enough but is too gentleman to flat out tell me; he cannot and will not.

And so I am left feeling useless. I have no one left to care for, and the ones I let in don’t find me special enough. No, that’s unfair to say. But still I wonder, what is so wrong with me that no one whom I wish to open up to finds me worthy enough to fight for?

UGH, I hate that I’m putting myself in some sort of victim role, because really, there is NOTHING in my life that gives me the right to feel like a victim. I am so angry at myself for feeling this way. Like, GET A FUCKING LIFE, NIE. YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO FEEL SAD.

I’m trying. I really am. And M., I’m sorry for currently using you as my life line; I know it’s fucking hard on you as well. But M., until I can let you go, please don’t give up on me yet. I still need your conversations. I still need your hugs too, but I know I cannot ask that of you.
Just.. don’t give up just yet. Please.

For now I’ll do my best to smile, and maybe after awhile it won’t be simple make-believe.

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