That's what every dreadful morning should be titled. When I don't wash off the night before and it stays on my pillows to remind me just how horrible it was. You know what I'm talking about. Like your misery is the prints that your mascara left behind. My eyes won't stop stinging. I still hate this.
This day feels so damn long. It's 10:51pm, and I want to be in bed, asleep and unconscious and dreamless. But tonight, either I won't find sleep, or if I do, I'd have to take a few swallows of Nyquil beforehand and my sleep will pretend things are ok. Then I'll be dreaming the strangest of dreams and I'll wake up and I won't feel better.
I'm constantly asked how I am feeling. I really don't mind, I just don't know how to answer. And when I do, I probably just sound absurd.
Some moments of my days are better than others. It's easier when I'm with Ian. But with everything, my worst fear is clinging on to him. I don't want to. It's just nice to really know someone is there. I hope I don't acknowledge it too much. I'm too afraid.
Why do I have so much to say? But every time I reread over, it doesn't feel like I'm saying anything at all. What I don't like about dealing with things is that I pack everything on atop one another. I dig up other things in my head so that I won't have to deal with what's at present.
I think that's why I've been looking through old pictures from the past. Pictures with people that have completed me before, completely different from the people that complete me now. And I'm trying to figure out how I got to where I am now. I keep thinking about how much people have come and gone. And how it'll just keep going at this. And how I always have to accept it.
God, I need some sleep.
This day feels so damn long. It's 10:51pm, and I want to be in bed, asleep and unconscious and dreamless. But tonight, either I won't find sleep, or if I do, I'd have to take a few swallows of Nyquil beforehand and my sleep will pretend things are ok. Then I'll be dreaming the strangest of dreams and I'll wake up and I won't feel better.
I'm constantly asked how I am feeling. I really don't mind, I just don't know how to answer. And when I do, I probably just sound absurd.
Some moments of my days are better than others. It's easier when I'm with Ian. But with everything, my worst fear is clinging on to him. I don't want to. It's just nice to really know someone is there. I hope I don't acknowledge it too much. I'm too afraid.
Why do I have so much to say? But every time I reread over, it doesn't feel like I'm saying anything at all. What I don't like about dealing with things is that I pack everything on atop one another. I dig up other things in my head so that I won't have to deal with what's at present.
I think that's why I've been looking through old pictures from the past. Pictures with people that have completed me before, completely different from the people that complete me now. And I'm trying to figure out how I got to where I am now. I keep thinking about how much people have come and gone. And how it'll just keep going at this. And how I always have to accept it.
God, I need some sleep.
