I'm having one of those bad days where I dissociate, and feel lost and sad, and wish for help. Why, oh why do they tempt us with the word psychologist, as though anyone can actually help us? Because then I wish for that help and it doesn't come. When my muscles go weak, my heart included, I am afraid and sad. I remind myself that I haven't died yet and it's been much worse, but still, I can't even talk about it or it sounds like whining, or else it needlessly worries someone who can do nothing about it.
But like I said, it is sweetly bitter. I used to be totally empty and feel hopeless with no arms to run into. I was that way for a long time, and I made it through.
But like I said, it is sweetly bitter. I used to be totally empty and feel hopeless with no arms to run into. I was that way for a long time, and I made it through.