A new life

I suffer from insomnia and nerves. I have a feeling that all of me are forced to do something, I have to choose music, taking into account the tastes of the German family (there is just a complete fucking), and rose petals and rice to be thrown at us. And the rings are not at all what I wanted, thanks to the stubborn jeweler who refused to do everything that came to my mind. And this is not it, and it's not so, and Hannas agreed to him, as a result, they will ring us with something incomprehensible and not mine! And the very fact of celebration is also there.

So in general, while I can not sleep at night, for some reason I began to reread my diary completely, now already somewhere in the period of four years ago. I have many thoughts on this matter, firstly, I began to understand where my legs were growing from my breakdown - and I am amazed at my blindness, how could I just not see it and take everything that happened around me, from my earliest childhood, for the norm? Secondly, my relationship with men is such a hit and run endless, when the emotional field is so twisted that the result is not the same, and I did not feel at all what the healthy people are experiencing. Constant fears on the topic of not being very attached, in order to have a way of retreat, so that God forbid not to depend on someone morally or mentally.
Only now, looking back, I understand that I lived most of my life in depression, which changed its appearance, but one way or another, I was not exactly adequate. And when I returned to St. Petersburg for the last time and looked at my life with my mind's eye, I thanked the fate three hundred times for the fact that it was formed like this! And it was necessary to me to go to drink to the bar on that treasured night on December 30, to meet there X. I was damned lucky to escape from that hell that crushes me so far every time I come home. Someone can say "oh yes you exaggerate everything - so many live and nothing", to which I answer - let them live, but once they get out of this shit, how complete inadequacy of what is happening to you throughout your whole life begins frankly beat in the eyes. And with every return, everything is stronger.
You could have thought that this forged a personality from me, but it was very difficult to forge this process, and I could surrender three hundred times on the way to the stars (and for me it's the way to a healthy self, nothing like that out of the ordinary), and now swell in the merchant, and then go to the club discount and fuck up there with something else. If you do not surrender completely, and there already who knows.
It was really hard work, in those years, and probably I'm happy with it, because no matter how much traffic there is ahead (and I hope there will be many more), but behind me I left my old mask and recognize it already as some kind of girlfriend, but not myself. I will never write that, oh, it was for the best. No, it would be for the best not to have a huge suitcase with crap on the shoulders. And the most tragic (and logical, blasphemy) is that a person can not in fact share this shit with anyone - because it is impossible to expect from people who live in a completely different reality, understanding and sharing all your pain that you continue to wear in your heart, it just dulls a little with age, you know what to do with it, but at the same time you realize that it will not go anywhere. Some scars are never delayed, the only thing that can be done is to become another person who knows how to take these scars as part of their whole and unique and just know that sometimes everything is bad not because everything is bad, but because something has pressed on the old wounds.
I have a completely new life ahead of me with a completely new one, maybe that's why I resist so strongly that I'm not ready for a new birth, like all children who are being pushed out of their homes. I restrain myself, and I need to cut the umbilical cord by force. Hey.