Diary entry; 03-02-2021.

Well, looks like it’s true.

It still hurts because I still feel something not entirely platonic for him.

And I fucked up when I wrote it down and gave it relevance.

I wrote the fact that I may still have feelings for x down, then thought about it for a second too long and like phoenix from the ashes, said feelings rose.

I’m fucking tired of these feelings. When will it end?

He sure as hell broke me.

Like he’s done time and time again.

But I’ve always wanted him in my life.

Even if it isn’t the way I used to want him in my life.

But I can’t go back.

I won’t.

I’m the neediest, clingiest version of myself when he’s giving me the smallest of attentions and when he takes it away, I’m the saddest version of me my mind can conjure up.

So now that he’s taken it away again for the umpteenth time, I have to learn to be okay with the pain.

With the ache.

He’s destroyed me and I can’t go back.

I can never go back.

Diary entry; 31-01-2021.

Why, I think I still harbour some feelings for Michael.

Why then, has the fact that he’s ghosted me hurt me so?

Maybe it’s because he’s a close friend? I suppose that would hurt.

But it seems to be more painful than it should be and that’s why with the lines blurred, I can’t be sure.

I keep checking to see if there’s activity on his socials and there seems to be and he seems to be fine so that makes it all the more worse.

Diary entry; 22-10-2020.

Nigeria has plummeted into chaos. The government is trying to silence us. Killing us for daring to ask that they honor our right to life, to end police brutality, and they’ve responded with brute force, trying to curb the insurgence. They would rather kill us all, than do the jobs they begged us for.

The protests have gone on for less than three weeks and there has been multiple casualties, many dead, many missing, many arrested, many injured. Families are broken, people are dead, still the president of the federal republic of Nigeria won’t address the people. My mental health has taken a beating, the heartache is too much. I don’t feel safe, because honestly, I’m not. Nobody is safe.

There is no way anybody comes out unscathed, we’ve all been scarred for life.
Making things worse, Faith has broken my heart, severed the connection between us, I tried to ignore the realization for as long as possible but the weight of everything else beating down on my sanity, has broken the fence I was guarding my mind with. It’s all gone to hell.

Diary entry; 21-10-2020.

It’s like one heartbreak after the other. I barely put the broken pieces of my heart back together from the time Michael took a sledge hammer to it.

Finally held my head high because I can talk to him and not die a lot inside. Finally at the place where my heart didn’t hurt so much because someone rejected me, because that’s what he did.

And there Faith Osbourne goes, delivering the final blow. When something is repaired, it is fragile, not in it’s original state, and it doesn’t take a hard blow to break it, any little amount would have sufficed in breaking it, but she, she went in for the kill. It hurts so much but you know what I’m not gonna do? Dwell on it.

Fuck her. It’s my fucking 20th birthday and she dare try to mock me? “that’s why you sent Trex to ask me if I actually forgot your birthday?”?!? The audacity.

Whatever Rexikins did, I had nothing to do with. I have tried to hold on, coming up with different ideas as to what might really be going on. The only thing going on is, she doesn’t want to be friends with me. And that’s okay. I don’t understand it, but I accept it.

Diary entry; 18-10-2020.

It’s been over a week since Osborne said she didn’t want to be friends anymore. I have tried to ignore it, think it’s a joke, a prank really, possibly like the one she pulled last year a week to my birthday, except more elaborately and with actual words.

I’m hanging on by a thread cause if in two days it turns out she’s serious, I would be seriously, and royally fucked. If she’s not, then she’s put me through unnecessary pain for two weeks and I don’t know if I will really get over it. Either way, I’m screwed.

Sometimes I wonder if she’s bipolar, or if she doesn’t care but the latter makes no sense and I’m not a doctor to determine the former. Sigh.