Tonight he phoned me.
Why? Maybe he's lonely. Maybe he needed to hear a voice while he drove home and nobody else was free. Maybe he wanted to gloat. Maybe he actually wanted to talk, I've no idea.
I feel sick. I feel like he's living the life I might have lived if I had just... I don't know... If I'd just not met him. I would have gone to university, made friends for life, stayed on with my studies and achieved all I wanted. Maybe I would've done a course I actually liked instead of one that bored me 50% of the time. The only time I wasn't bored were my meetings with Craig. So young and enthusiastic. I needed some of that. I needed some life after it was sucked out of my very soul.
All that matters now is things were taken from me at a time I had it all going for me, because of him.
Now, I'm working on a blanket every night, shedding a few tears before I sleep and working every day. I want to go to Spain-I need to find my home. I need to find something that makes me feel safe.
Does that make sense?