I write this with a heavy heart… in fact, it hurts to breathe and I can barely see through my tears. My life is far from perfect nor do I ever want to make that claim or lead anyone yo believe I feel this way. I’m just a broken woman who has somehow managed to survive herself 29 years without completely falling apart.
Most days, I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep untill I can’t possibly sleep anymore without it being considered a coma. Other days, I fear sleep because I worry about what waits to haunt my dreams. More suppressed memories? More vivid ones that no matter how hard I try cannot be erased? Something abstract and tucked up that I can’t decipher?
I hate every day because I never know what type of argument it will bring between me and someone I love. The more often these arguments come, the less I seem to care about the person they are with… it’s my mind’s own defense mechanism against having to put forth time and energy on someone who doesn’t seem to give a fuck about me, therefore why should I, of them?
My heart hurts a lot right now, but I suppose we all make mistakes, I just never expected that my own mistake would cause my heart to break.