I don’t know what I’m doing, clearly. I’m out of my league. Why did I think I was capable of sustaining a relationship with someone when I hate myself, I’m paranoid, and when I’m too chicken shit to communicate effectively? Venting and bitching in therapy each week isn’t doing any good. Nothing gets accomplished. The level of my paranoia is sky high and I have no concrete evidence of anything, not that I don’t continue to look.
I’ve always thought of myself as the type who would bust through the stereotypical girlfriend roles. I wouldn’t nag, get jealous, or yell. I’d be the cool girlfriend you could brag about to your buddies. So far, I haven’t lived up to my hopes and expectations.
I never planned to be so clingy. I want you to have your personal time. I want you to know how much you matter to me. I want you to come home from work to a clean apartment, dinner on the table, possible sex, and a good nights sleep. I want you to be happy; so happy you never need to look elsewhere.
I’m sorry I’m crazy and I am having a rough time controlling it. I’m sorry I suffocate you and assume you’re going to leave me any minute. I’m sorry I have no clue what I’m doing. I wish I could feel secure and I wish you would help make me understand. I would love to take all of the blame, but maybe you could take a little of it? You have numerous faults too and do nothing to improve on them. I can’t be expected to change if you’re not willing to.
If you’re looking elsewhere, please be honest with me. I deserve that, at least.