Late night conversations I hate

I’m laying on my stomach biting the skin around my thumb as I listen to you ask me nicely whether maybe I could be the type of person that puts myself in bad situations and maybe it’s a pattern in my life. There is blood in my mouth. The taste of rust and thick white spit that sticks against the back of my throat as I feel the poison slowly drain through my limbs. On paper, these are the things that never sound so bad. Victim blaming. Distrust. Shaming. I know these words now, and I can label them as they fall from your mouth like marbles down a spiral staircase, but I still feel each hollow clink on the way down and I’m still at the bottom collecting them from you and holding them all as if they were my responsibility to polish, as if it was my job to explain it out for you. Surviving. The walk along the edge of death with just a thread to hold on to, attached to the hope of a future that falls in and out of view. And you want to know, how can you be happy now? A question that only means to tell me that if I have been through what I say I have, there’s no way I could be. Why should I have to take your hand and walk you there? See this? This here is where I sat and screamed. This old step outside my college dorm is where I’d come to on those nights I couldn’t sleep. It’s where I’d curse and shake and rock slowly...

Welcome to our new design!

      We had a redesign here at Life After Dating a Psycho! We hope you like it. As we continue to grow the blog, we wanted to make the website more engaging to our viewers. Over the next few months we will continue to expand. If there is anything you would like to see on the site, WE WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT! Email me at lifeafterdatingapsycho@gmail.com. Or, visit our Facebook Page and leave us a comment. Peace and love, Leigh...