Everything tells me I shouldn't publicize this. This should go into my journal. But no one but me reads that. Maybe I need someone to read this. Maybe this is my way of asking for help.
The past three nights I haven't even changed my clothes to go to sleep. I've told myself I need to shower but I didn't. I just crawled into bed and cried until sleep overcame me. I want to stop all my medication. Not in a "I want to die" way. Though I guess, maybe there is no other way of looking at it. I wake up in the middle of the night to take Desmond out and I can't ever go back to sleep because I'm consumed with how much I want to hurt myself. Wondering if the Chemo would make me bleed out.
I've been turned into some sort of hero. I've been glorified in so many people's eyes. I am so loved. Why.
I had a dream last night. I was sitting at a window. On Killarney St. Waiting for her to come home. Do you know what I just realized? She never did come home. My dad took me to her.
I don't ever think about you. No, never.
"I'm sorry"
Then in unison! Ha. I make decisions for everyone else. When in reality I was just making a decision for myself.
Perception.
No one asks me what I'm doing. How it makes me feel. Everyone assumes.
Promises. Giving me your word. Meaningless.
You know, I stopped expecting you to be there for me a long time ago. I stopped expecting you to drop things for me. But it still hurts. I wonder if it will always hurt.
No more motivation. To do anything. I don't want to work on that for you. Not because I don't love you but because my heart is dead. I don't want to work on that because I'll just fail and there is no future. I don't want to pay my bills because it doesn't matter.
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