So he found me sleeping on the floor this morning and got mad at me for being upset. Drank more liquor, fought with me and threw up. I guess me crying turned him on or something. We had s**… or rather he had s** with me. I just laid there. I was turned on [I always am tbh, I’m always the one bugging him for s**] but it felt wrong. After he came he felt better, endorphins and s*** right? Must be nice. I didn’t kiss him goodbye. I didn’t tell him I loved him. He wants me to be happy and forget what he said. He knows he said some awful things that he can’t even remember. I hate myself so much, I really don’t need anyone to help me in that department. He keeps saying that he wants to die and that I don’t get it, but I do.. I don’t even know how I’m still alive. I’ve been holding onto threads for so long. My f****** inexperienced, broken heart is reeling.
