Here we go again. Since Christmas I’ve been struggling with the choking fumes of the black cloud that binds me. Right now, I feel like I’m pulling myself through the mucky sludge that is life. I miss J more than I can say.
I’m dealing with a lot of bad shit in therapy and I saw my ex recently. Then, I felt pleased I had made it out without talking to him. I feel now like bad things are on their way and that I’m never free until I leave this country. Even then I won’t be entirely free. He still probably has some way of knowing where I am.
He’s stayed in the next town close to me whilst I’ve been living here. He’s been there probably so he can have that off-chance of bumping into me. All I want is to be happy, without PTSD, the memory problems, self-sabotage and agony that comes with it. I want J. I want a new life.
When do I get it? Do I get it?
I didn’t say before, but I’ve been thinking of suicide again in a distracted, half-baked thoughts of how it would be better just to sleep. Then I think of my puppy, of J… but then my thoughts trail off and I worry about how horrible everything on the inside of my head is and then I just wait for my eyes to shut and for sleep to come, or for my day to start, or for something to happen without me hating every second.
Apparently, I’m not doing as well as I’d thought. I hope this will pass, this feeling I have.