I haven't been good to myself. and in subtle ways, slowly but surely, it's catching up to me. Some nights I wish I could take a break. Being alive in the circumstances of my life feels like I'm dying a slow death. It would be far less painful to speed this up. I'm in no shape to help the world...I cannot even help myself. The contrast between who we are in a crowd and how we feel in solitude - it's telling of our happiness.
I'm so afraid I can't do it anymore. I can't keep pretending. It's not a part of who i am. I'm a fucking mess with no drive to clean myself up...just fear of my own demise - the long-term sequelae of abuse and misuse.
