Intuition

I used to throw a lot of parties. Two, sometimes three times a week. I’d invite everyone I knew, and they’d all come. I only threw them to invite a certain boy. So I wouldn’t have to hear him say, one more time, “will it just be you and me?” Like I was some sort of fucking disease, like I would eat him alive if contained, like he was trapped, like every other boy.
Recently, it feels like this. It feels like I was sucker punched. It feels like I’m in this limbo hell where no one else can see me, but I can see all of them. It feels like I’m coming down off something fucking fabulous and fighting it the whole way. It feels like it’s all going to implode.
I spent the hours after midnight tonight crying in the dark shower stall. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stand. The entire world bore down right on my shoulders and everything screaming in my head wouldn’t stop for a single second.
It’s exhausting, acting like someone else to please a person who doesn’t really care, and who in the long run you don’t even really care about. A thousand questions pressing on the back of my tongue, but I take a drink and swallow them all back, hoping it will just all disappear.
And for all my cunning and sharp words, I’m the master of delusion. I’m a failure at seeing things for what they are, for what they will become, for what they will do to me.

Are you paying attention? Because this is the most truthful thing I’ll ever tell.
I know what is going to happen in the future. Before something happens, maybe a few days or a week prior, I’ll get this warning sign (in my head). I’ll panic and go overboard trying to remedy the problem before it even happens, but it always does. Every. Single. Time.
What I’ve spent most of my time recently thinking about though is, is this psychic intuition at work or is this my own self fulfilling prophecy? Is this my sick way of grabbing a situation by the balls and bringing it where I want and justifying it by saying, “I told you so,”?
I have these dreams that leave me in cold sweats and tears. Terrible things. And then, they happen. And I sit in the shower stall afterward, crying and numb, saying, “I told you so,” to absolutely fucking no one but myself.
It’s three a.m. and I sit alone in my dark apartment with my stomach in such knots that I can barely breathe, let alone sleep. So much for self preservation.