Some days are better but not by much.

I am living in hell. Coyotes won't let me outdoors. My roommate is sick all the time.

I had bad friends and my life partner was a vampire.no one can understand the unique terror of living with a woman who cannot experience shame or guilt or grieving. For the record, my anger is the only thing that kept me alive.  (No one understands this other than me. I was alone in a universe of gaslighting.)

Pretty amazing I'm still here.  Waking up, trying to get dressed,rarely making headway on any projects. I send a check once a month to an ex who hasn’t treated me like a human I 3 fucking years, and likely much longer.  I resent her money for nothing greed.  

I'm having trouble with alcohol. I say 'don't drink tonight" and then I do anyway. And I don't really care.

Definitely numbs the pain and the loneliness but it doesn't stop the crying.

The last thing I love was stolen from me. I don’t have the capacity for new love because I hurt so much. I got a new cat and I can’t connect with him.  I’m terrified I’ll be living with a stranger instead of Ceci who always showed up.  I don’t even have the strength to affect change in that single relationship, and my loss of power is tearing me to pieces.

Some days are better. But many days are a purposeless charade. I truly don’t care what I do. I don’t return calls and I don’t care about them.  No family.  Pressure in my chest always. There’s no where that I want to be, and no reason to be here either.  

No one will help.  I have therapy once a week.  That’s it.  I feel ok during the session.  I get some support there.  I don’t feel well any other time in the week.  I take anti depressants. They’re useless.  

I would rest but I don’t know how and it’s been years since I protected myself from violence or affected self-improvement.  I’m dying quickly I suspect.  

I should. Why not.