Some days I forget

Some days I forget his face,
what a cuddle or kiss feels like,
what its like to feel safe and calm.

I know I once felt those things, but they disappear so quickly into the abyss nowadays.
Just last night I watched old videos of us, of him, and his face was so foreign to me. It was like meeting him for the first time, everytime.
My parents feel a little similar to that, too.

.
I haven't been able to stop shaking since I woke up.
It feels bad, but I can't feel it, somehow.
I'm not really here.
.

Then I stumbled upon a video sent to me a month ago,
and upon playing it- his voice was the first thing that was blasted.
Immediately my heart sank, and the inevitable heavy feeling of death was upon me.
I felt like the bed was shaking.
It was weird.

I don't think I can listen to his voice now without getting nervous or heart drops.
And previously it had taken longer to forget his touch, face, voice..

but now its getting a little blurry,
and the thought of him scares me.

it scares me that my mind isn't working the way it used to, anymore.

I'm tired.
He never was there when I needed him- when he's angry, disappointed, busy, tired, having fun-
he's not around, just as he hasn't been around during the Vietnam trip, when the crash first started, or the KL trip, when it was progressively getting worse, or now, when he's happily back in Malaysia, and I'm left to die here.
It's not his problem, so he doesn't care. he doesn't want to deal.

Each time we get back together he says sweet things like 'i'm sorry I didn't try harder for you in KL. FYP. whatever place it was.'
but the very next time, I'm left to die all over again, by myself.

I wonder if my memory is accurate.
Did he threaten to tie me up, or did he actually tie me up when I was having a bad night?

Why do these memories play like a badly shot student film,
with me looking at myself in terms of a master shot, with blurry details?

I keep getting flashbacks to when he threw me back onto the bed..
when he cornered me in a corner of the room,
me begging him to let me go home..

For some reason,
I recall those in third person, too.

Each time I vowed never to step into his room again,
never to give him the power to hurt and bind and gag me..

but the following sunday I find myself back,

because, well...

Everyone needs someone.

What is love if I can't feel beyond the panic attacks, the mind blanks, floating, scratching, fear, fear, fucking, fear..?

I want to stop going to therapy. it's only been... probably three sessions.
But I can't do this anymore.

I want to end it soon.

I keep finding new places to jump from.
I'm constantly rehearsing the pain, emotions, fall, gravity, in my head.

I just need to gather courage, now.