I don’t have time to. I don’t have time for much it seems. Between work, moving, Marcus and my relationship alone, I am constantly running around mentally and physically. But the thing keeping me primarily occupied is my past. Not two, three or even five years ago. But 14 or more. These nightmares are consuming me, rotting me from the inside out. While I have okay days and even some good ones it feels like I just can’t escape it. These thoughts are like an elongated shadow, just constantly following me around. They cause all these demented, horrifying feelings. I feel as though I am constantly being watched, and every time I look, there they are. Those faces you expect to see when you look outside a dark window, the masked man behind the shower curtain, the demon that appears when you close the medicine cabinet. Unfortunately for me, they are actually there. I need to let go, let out, 100%. I got closer than I have ever gotten before. I almost told her all. But I can’t bare the thought of telling the person I love, the person I want to grow old with, all the horrifying details to my past. I know there is no way that she will feel the same about me. I don’t want pity, I don’t want sorrow. I want the weight of the universe off of my shoulders, off of my chest. I want to live again, breath a weightless breath. I want to know what that feels like. Since I was a child I have become an expert in hiding my ugly, putting on that smile, being “strong”, “happy”, “courageous”. I want to be able to truly be that person without the quotation marks. Simply knowing I have made it this far assures me that that is my true person, but I want to do it without restraints. I don’t blame myself for what has happened, only for not seeking help. For being too prideful my entire life to admit the fact that this IS something I need help with, that it doesn’t make me any less of a human, that we all need help at some point or another in this world. But it’s easy for me to say this on here, when I will actually seek that help, I don’t even want to know how long it will take me. I owe it to my beautiful girlfriend that has every right to get upset, confused and hurt when I shut her out on a constant basis. I owe it to my friends and family, so that they can have the whole Ivana, not the one that puts on makeup on all of her inner imperfections. I owe it to Marcus, for all the times I’ve already almost failed him completely, for all the tears he has already had to see, the sobs he’s heard. By ultimately, I owe it to myself. To forgive myself for these things that despite not being my fault, I’ve blamed myself for and hidden as if I were the monster that committed these unmentionable acts. I owe to myself to not let these things hold me back another second in my life as I’ve wasted at least 15 years. We aren’t promised life ten minutes from now, much less tomorrow. I want to be happy, I deserve to be happy. I need to be happy.