Becoming the hatchet

I was going to write about how I have become someone with a dark and secret past. But that just looked like I was asking for more trouble, asking for sympathy, and making myself out to be something special when I am not. So I shall say this. I think I am still a depressive maniac, I have just managed to get a better control of myself. Better at hiding the feelings. David has succeeded in putting my suicidal tendencies on hold. Six years is a long time to make a big impression like that on someone's life. With his help I have slowly turned myself to face a different direction. And when he is not there I have a habit of slipping a little. He gets upset with my dependency on him sometimes, and I often think he forgets who I used to be. I think I forget who I used to be. Instead I have turned into those I used to loathe. I am amazed at how different I am now. I see former versions of me walking around as highschoolers or freshman, and I feel a sense of motherhood towards them. A feeling like, "i've been there and I can show you how to get to the otherside." I am not so sure that the otherside is all that it's cracked up to be. And sometimes I wish to return to their side. To wallow in pity and lap up whatever sympathy the wind blows my way. You can't help yourself when you are there. Now that I am here, I feel so hypocritical. I remember what it was that I had hated so much about this side, and what I had once desired from it. David may never fully grasp how much he has transformed my life. Or how much I had wished for our relationship when I was in my youth. Someday I will let him read my old journals. I think they are painful though. I can still think of many wishes I once had that still haven't reached fruition. I tend to think that my life will be like a poem I once read. The poem was about a girl who wished everyday that god would take her away. Years went by and she was eventually a happily married mother. Then God came and took her away, and she didn't want to die anymore. The moral of the poem stuck with me. I never thought I would recieve the same fate. I thought I would never meet a guy, I would never find happiness. I would just let God or whatever take me away when the time finally came. Perhaps this story will be all too true to my own life. I already suspect I am dying inside, was on the verge of death several times (especially taking into account every 'barely made it' car situation). I damaged my liver enough that once, my kidneys on another occasion. My ears recently. Watch me die of hypochondrism. :P