I need advice from a caterpillar.

Yesterday wasn't good, like at all. And today isn't any better.

My mother still won't talk to me.

BB still won't talk to me.

Everyone is too busy with their lives to talk to me.

And I really need to talk to someone.

Last night I had a scary violent dream involving BB and oddly enough, my dad? BB was getting mad at me and throwing my stuff around like he used to do in the apartment. He was yelling and I was telling him to leave but he wouldn't. My dad would pop up every now and then wanting to intervene but I kept pushing him away.

Eventually BB was trying to break down a door just out of anger, but my dad popped up again and was like CRAZY mad. Like scary crazy mad, and he ripped the fucking WALL in half??? And he was like spitting and had crazy eyes and was like, "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT? IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?!" to BB and both BB and I were like whaaaaaat the fuck.

I don't know it was weird. And then there was a scary part that kept repeating itself where this little girl would walk to this door that was on the floor (led to a basement), spin in a circle while putting on ballet flats and then turn into a fairy while saying, "I'm ____ of the fae" (I can't remember her name). But the last time she did it she was like fighting with herself. She was like, "I'm ____ of the fae... No, I'M ____ of the fae. Nooo, I'm ____ of the faeeeEeeEeEEEee..."

She was spinning and spinning and laughing manically, unable to put on her shoes. It reminded me of when I experienced psychosis in the bathtub last May. It's scared me so much I woke up.

I was so afraid all last night that I'd end up hurting myself. I painted and drew and wrote until I was completely exhausted. I even put on a meditation to help me get to sleep... but I felt afraid in my forest and kept hiding behind trees like a child who hides behind their mother.

Anyway, when I awoke from the dream I was like, kay I need to not be by myself, I'm too scared to be by myself.

So I do what I normally do when I have a bad dream whilst at my mother's, I go sleep in her bed.

Normally I stand at the door and call to her until she wakes up, because if I just go in she wakes up and sees a person there and freaks the fuck out.

So I call and call and she's not answering. I don't hear my dog in there either so I'm like, huh maybe she's sleeping on the couch? So I go to the living room, calling her and she's not there. I start to get worried and go to her room again calling with more haste and honestly, just a bit frantic.

I end up just barging in and she wakes up and asks if I had a bad dream and I start bawling and hyperventilating because I thought she left because she was mad at me.

What the fuck Mint? Like, why would that even be a thing. In this moment I realized that I may or may not have some abandonment issues lol and also that I really need some fucking attention.

I woke up this morning and mom's already up and still won't talk to me. I'll say something, and she ignores me completely. Won't even look at me.

My mood just keeps getting lower and lower today. I feel like I've messed my entire life up and no one likes me and I'm annoying and needy and embarrassing and no one's proud of me and no one wants to even know me. I wish I didn't exist.

Mom left about an hour ago I guess. I started crying because I knew that I was going to end up cutting. I couldn't fight it any longer.

I tried to fight it. I really did. I almost phoned my mom because I was afraid of myself. But whatever. I was close to suicidal, but I didn't cut to kill. So it's all okay.

I feel better now. Calmer... numb. Empty, yeah, but at least I'm numb.

I don't know who I am or what I need. It's very annoying.

You know, BB and I had our problems but he definitely grounded me. I never binged while with him, cut only like 3 times in 3 years, hardly had bad dreams... I wish it could work. I know it can't but I can still wish it did.

"You!" said the Caterpillar contemptuously, "Who are you?"

- Mint.

You are my yellow paint.

I hate everything.

SO, I went out last night.

It was supposed to be PERFECT. I spent ALL DAY getting ready. ALL. DAY.

I wore a super hot outfit, I learnt how to do the smoky goddamn eye, I bought tequila, I made sure to NOT drink too early, I wore heals, I DID EVERYTHING RIGHT.

I WAS GONNA GET THE D.

Long story short, I did not get the d...

I got the d as in "drunk-ass-fuck-mother-fucker-who-forgot-that-you're-not-supposed-to-mix-liquor-with-your-medication-and-that-it's-a-definite-no-go-when-you-have-no-cocaine-in-your-system-to-balance-it-out-and-no-food-either". I got that kind of d times 10.

I HAD A FULL FUCKING BACHELOR PARTY BUYING ME DRINKS AND INVITING ME TO THEIR AFTER PARTY. Goddamnit.

This all happened because of fucking love. Fuck love. I hate love. Love fucked me up.

If I hadn't fallen in love do you know where I could BE right now?

I can't get him out of my fucking head. Nothing is better than him. Nobody is funnier, sweeter, cuter, comfier... than him.

I start drinking and all I want is to drink more and more and more until I pass the fuck out so I can escape the thought of him, even though he's always in my fucking dreams too.

The other day he said he had a dream that we had sex together in this bed that was in the middle of the ocean.

The other day he told me about how Morgan Freeman's daughter has the same name as me, and I said my name is still better than hers, and he said, "it sure is".

The other day he called me "hun".

NOW, he won't talk to me at all. At all.

I've had Noah Cyrus', "Make me (cry)" stuck in my head for three days straight.

I don't get it.

I think I'm fine and then a stupid incident like this happens and I'm all in pieces again. I think I'm fine and then suddenly I'm actively trying to find a way to "accidentally" kill myself; because I don't give a shit. I don't give a shit about any fucking thing.

With him gone, I've totally reverted back to who I was before, except worse. Because NOW, I know what it's like to have him. NOW, I know what he's put me through. NOW, I know what it's like to have love, and to have lost love.

I hate him. I hate him. I fucking hate him.

"You're in my veins, you fuck."

Love is the worst thing in the world. I wish I could forget that it exists. But at the same time I'm conflicted with the fact that it's the only thing worth living for. Like, nothing is better than having somebody by your side. Nothing is better than living with your best friend. Than waking up to hugs and kisses, than being held when you cry, than having someone tell you it's all right when you wake up from a bad dream... THIS is a bad dream. I know it'll pass (this feeling that is), I know it'll "get better". But looking at my track record, it's hard to imagine anything getting "better".

Not only because my life sucks, but because I crave destruction.

Whenever I feel myself getting better, it makes me sad and makes me feel like I'm boring and unoriginal and petty. How does that make sense? It doesn't.

Yesterday I watched this video that talked about an experiment that A.E. Fisher conducted with puppies. Basically revealing the fact that mental uncertainty plays a huge role within attachment, and love as a whole.

It's not healthy, it's not how it should be, but it's how it is. Puppies shown only love, or only hate, didn't love the researchers as much as the puppies who were unsure as to what they were going to receive at any given moment.

People don't fall in love with abusive people. That's just not how it works. It's always a relationship that's really good and really bad at the same time that makes people come back, even when they know they shouldn't. I think that that's why it's harder for people to get over these types of relationships. It's an addiction to some weird concoction of painful bliss.

Ugh... I hate myself.

But I hate BB more.
I hate that I love the stupid fuck.

. . .