November 28th, 2012
I've never been one for diaries. Or I guess a journal, Ben kept makin a face when I was callin it a diary. I think I'm gettin ahead of myself. Let me try this again...
Last night Ben came over so we could unwind. We were hunkerin down, but before I could start the movie Ben got a lil fidgety an pulled this on out. It's just a simple sorta thing, blue on the outside with lined pages. Nothin' fancy. I didn't get it at first.
Ben told Chey about himself and his boys. So now I know, Harper knows, an Chey knows. I can't much talk to Harper about this stuff because she talks to Ben on a different level when it comes to it. Chey I can open up to a lot more, really tell her what's on my mind without her battin a lash. That's how it's always been for us.
But Chey ain't around this week. She's in California visitin Austin and Ben is worried cause I'm still keepin it all in despite his best efforts. So he gave me this lil book and told me I should try gettin it all off my chest, even if it ain't to another livin soul. He said he writes, about anythin and everythin. He said it helps him to get the thoughts out of his head.
So, here I am. Tryin to figure out what I've got goin on in my head...
I guess all this started because of Thursday, but came to a boil on Sunday. I wanted to talk to Ben about him tellin Chey. I was blindsided by it and wanted to know exactly what he told her and why. I guess the why I could have figured out. Thursday night, Thanksgivin, when I was in a house filled with my family, I got a pocket dial. Not from Ben, but from Harry. He was with some girl in a bathroom. Keep it classy, Harry.
It wrecked me and I had no one to talk to about it. I had to put on this goofy smile and act like I was fine. I told Ben that on Friday when he came over. I also told him to leave. That I couldn't be around him while I sorted it all out, tried to make sense of it. He hated the idea of me bein alone, but I guess he understood why I had a hard time bein round him. Maybe? He might have understood, but he didn't like it. He ended up leavin. I figure now that him tellin Chey is so I don't gotta be alone no more.
The text was short and sweet. We need to talk. I'm comin over. Well, maybe a little too short and not sweet enough. When I showed up to Ben's he hauled on into the apartment by the wrist. I should have known right there it wasn't Ben. I always get so mad at myself for not realizing when I'm looking Sam in the eye. Or that time I accidentally kissed Harry.
Ben doesn't get it, but how could he? He doesn't see them, or hear them. I don't even think I would get it if I didn't witness it for myself. They all obviously LOOK like Ben, but the way they look at me is different. The way they talk, carry themselves, the way they move, how they sound.
As Sam always does, he said the worst he could come up with. How badly I mess with Ben and how he would be better off without me. He pushed on other things, private things, things I didn't realize would get out from between Ben and I. There really are no secrets, are there? But he got me so mad I slapped him.
I have hit Ben more than I would like to ever admit. Though, it was never Ben. I've punched Harry. I've now slapped Sam. It's got the usual exhilaration that comes with violence against someone who pushes your buttons in all the wrong ways followed by the guilt of doin that to someone you care about. In short, it's messed up.
But I slapped him. And in turn he got me up against the wall by the neck. I got the bruises still. They're worse than I imagined they would be, but I cover em every mornin and touch em up all day. It's not somethin I want people seein, to get the idea that maybe Ben did that to me. It's not somethin I want Ben seein. It ain't even somethin I wanna see.
Sam, in all his glory, brought Ben back in the middle of it all with his hands still around my neck. He had kept tellin me to leave and I told him not until Ben tells me to. Was that his hope? That Ben would be so shaken that he would tell me to leave for my safety and his sanity?
Didn't work. Not gonna work. Even though sometimes it's hard to separate Ben's hands, lips, body from Harry and Sam's... them actions aren't his. He wouldn't do that to me, I can say that with confidence. Sure, he might have punched a wall afterward outta frustration, but there ain't a moment since I've known Ben that I can ever say I've worried about HIM layin a hand on me outta anger.
All that said, things ain't perfect. Like I mentioned before, it is sometimes hard distinguishin between Ben's body and Sam's or the others. I mean, they're the same so can you blame me? Ben couldn't look at me with the sort of disgust that Sam does, but it's still them blue eyes that're always lookin back at me one way or another.
We're okay though. We're gonna be okay. It's just gonna take time, a lotta work, and it's never gonna be easy. But I know deep down it's gonna be worth it.
I've never been one for diaries. Or I guess a journal, Ben kept makin a face when I was callin it a diary. I think I'm gettin ahead of myself. Let me try this again...
Last night Ben came over so we could unwind. We were hunkerin down, but before I could start the movie Ben got a lil fidgety an pulled this on out. It's just a simple sorta thing, blue on the outside with lined pages. Nothin' fancy. I didn't get it at first.
Ben told Chey about himself and his boys. So now I know, Harper knows, an Chey knows. I can't much talk to Harper about this stuff because she talks to Ben on a different level when it comes to it. Chey I can open up to a lot more, really tell her what's on my mind without her battin a lash. That's how it's always been for us.
But Chey ain't around this week. She's in California visitin Austin and Ben is worried cause I'm still keepin it all in despite his best efforts. So he gave me this lil book and told me I should try gettin it all off my chest, even if it ain't to another livin soul. He said he writes, about anythin and everythin. He said it helps him to get the thoughts out of his head.
So, here I am. Tryin to figure out what I've got goin on in my head...
I guess all this started because of Thursday, but came to a boil on Sunday. I wanted to talk to Ben about him tellin Chey. I was blindsided by it and wanted to know exactly what he told her and why. I guess the why I could have figured out. Thursday night, Thanksgivin, when I was in a house filled with my family, I got a pocket dial. Not from Ben, but from Harry. He was with some girl in a bathroom. Keep it classy, Harry.
It wrecked me and I had no one to talk to about it. I had to put on this goofy smile and act like I was fine. I told Ben that on Friday when he came over. I also told him to leave. That I couldn't be around him while I sorted it all out, tried to make sense of it. He hated the idea of me bein alone, but I guess he understood why I had a hard time bein round him. Maybe? He might have understood, but he didn't like it. He ended up leavin. I figure now that him tellin Chey is so I don't gotta be alone no more.
The text was short and sweet. We need to talk. I'm comin over. Well, maybe a little too short and not sweet enough. When I showed up to Ben's he hauled on into the apartment by the wrist. I should have known right there it wasn't Ben. I always get so mad at myself for not realizing when I'm looking Sam in the eye. Or that time I accidentally kissed Harry.
Ben doesn't get it, but how could he? He doesn't see them, or hear them. I don't even think I would get it if I didn't witness it for myself. They all obviously LOOK like Ben, but the way they look at me is different. The way they talk, carry themselves, the way they move, how they sound.
As Sam always does, he said the worst he could come up with. How badly I mess with Ben and how he would be better off without me. He pushed on other things, private things, things I didn't realize would get out from between Ben and I. There really are no secrets, are there? But he got me so mad I slapped him.
I have hit Ben more than I would like to ever admit. Though, it was never Ben. I've punched Harry. I've now slapped Sam. It's got the usual exhilaration that comes with violence against someone who pushes your buttons in all the wrong ways followed by the guilt of doin that to someone you care about. In short, it's messed up.
But I slapped him. And in turn he got me up against the wall by the neck. I got the bruises still. They're worse than I imagined they would be, but I cover em every mornin and touch em up all day. It's not somethin I want people seein, to get the idea that maybe Ben did that to me. It's not somethin I want Ben seein. It ain't even somethin I wanna see.
Sam, in all his glory, brought Ben back in the middle of it all with his hands still around my neck. He had kept tellin me to leave and I told him not until Ben tells me to. Was that his hope? That Ben would be so shaken that he would tell me to leave for my safety and his sanity?
Didn't work. Not gonna work. Even though sometimes it's hard to separate Ben's hands, lips, body from Harry and Sam's... them actions aren't his. He wouldn't do that to me, I can say that with confidence. Sure, he might have punched a wall afterward outta frustration, but there ain't a moment since I've known Ben that I can ever say I've worried about HIM layin a hand on me outta anger.
All that said, things ain't perfect. Like I mentioned before, it is sometimes hard distinguishin between Ben's body and Sam's or the others. I mean, they're the same so can you blame me? Ben couldn't look at me with the sort of disgust that Sam does, but it's still them blue eyes that're always lookin back at me one way or another.
We're okay though. We're gonna be okay. It's just gonna take time, a lotta work, and it's never gonna be easy. But I know deep down it's gonna be worth it.