Digging holes under myself

I mentioned to the Semi-Imaginary One that I had posted the picture of the two of us online because it was a decent picture of me, but that I hadn't tagged or identified him and that wouldn't show up to his friends (including the one who claimed to be his actual partner).  He declared this a good idea.  Both the showing my friends part and the not showing it to his people part (through one word texts, and not many of them - we have a mostly text based relationship that is so one sided that I can't scroll back through messages without depressing myself because well over 90% of the textbox is blue).

This led to going to bed last night and lying awake wondering if I am only letting things slide because we are approaching something that could be considered the five year mark.  There are things I really have to push him on answering but, as I am weirdly certain he will dump me the moment I make things hard, I might be putting them off so I can afterwards say I'm not long out of a five year relationship, rather than an almost five year one.  Semantics, they are powerful....

Or I am just shit scared of confrontation and hurting myself but putting off the hurt that will come.

After his explaining away the other guy claiming to be his partner with 'friend who he almost dated years ago but the guy had too much baggage', when they guy had given a context for their meeting that put it after the Semi-Imaginary One and I had taken to exchanging occasional L-bombs.... (something the Semi-Imaginary One himself seemed to have missed when I showed him the entire conversation with 'his partner').
Thee is no way the actual explanation isn't going to be fucking painful.
And because I have no self-respect at all, I am still going to wait around for it.

I may even 'forgive' it.

I am worthless trash proving how worthless I am.
Go me.


Also, it has become a little clear, especially after having a bit of a rant at Tavendale, that my blogging into a void that isn't intended to have readers is basically just an extra unhelpful echo chamber.  The only noise is the chamber is the sound of how much of a fuck-up I am.
A noise that has too much 'why haven't you killed yourself yet' hiding in its confusing whispers.


I really need to get back into counselling.  And with someone less useless than George, the last one I saw.