Now that I am beginning my new life and can finally put my past behind me without constant reminders of my two months of hell, the worst two months of my life, I can move on. Speaking to women is easier than before, so I guess I did get something positive out of the last year and a half of my life. Also found that my college education has put me into a different category, which is good. My self-esteem is gaining and I just don’t give a fuck about what people think of me anymore. I don’t have to worry about being accused of things that never happened and I don’t have to live in constant fear of being harassed in my apartment anymore. It is just me, myself and I. I will rebuild into a stronger Tommi.
The new Tommi 2.0 will be better and will not put up with shit any longer. I am shopping around for a therapist, doctor and group therapy in my new town. I can benefit from talking to someone about what happened and maybe be able to set some new boundaries, instead of allowing people to abuse my kindness. About one-hundred people abused me financially this year, only to show their true colors after my kindness. I need to set boundaries and only befriend people who are willing to be my friend with no strings attached. This, “I will be your friend or like you, if you spend money on me”, the routine is getting old. I will buy dinner one night if you buy dinner the next night is acceptable. I will give someone a ride if they are willing to pitch in somehow. I had friends like this in my town but, I had to move on.
Time to find more real friends, instead of faux friends who will leave when they don’t have a use for me any longer. Once my fake friends found out I needed help, they abandoned me for someone cooler. My new life will only allow for real friends, real friends who took me to a hot tub the day I got released from IP, real friends who helped me move out of my apartment, real friends who drove me 200 miles to a hospital to go IP instead of lying to get me committed, real friends who have asked me how I’m doing instead of how much I can give them, real friends who fight with me over who pays dinner, real friends who I bring out for their birthday dinner, real friends who hugged me when I was feeling suicidal and recommended that I just try to lift myself up.
My real friends never laugh at me because of my cerebral palsy, my real friends don’t laugh at me and ask that I kill myself. My real friends call me, to check in with me. I also return the favor when my real friends’ are having a hard time. Real friends love me more than what I thought were my friends, but they posed. Fuck that, moving on! This is also my personal blog if you don’t like what I write on here, get over yourself and piss off. I don’t have to answer to anyone, I don’t owe anyone a damn thing and as far as I am concerned, most of the people who read my blog are angry women who have daddy issues. Piss off and let me live my life.
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– Colorful Asylum