Trying in 2023

It’s all too much. It’s just too much. It’s too much nothing. Everything is too much nothing.

I hate waking up in the morning. I hate it. Another day without you, fabulous. I can’t wait for bedtime so I can close my eyes again and drift into a drug induced sleep for a few hours just to do it all over again.

I fucking hate it.

I went for a walk by myself yesterday afternoon. It was horrifying being in the store alone. I just wanted lasagna noodles. They didn’t have any. Or I wasn’t looking in the right place, it doesn’t matter because my brain processed “omg you can’t leave here empty handed, you can’t come in a store and look around and leave without buying something omg they’ll think you stole something, holy shit wtf do I buy now?!”

Key lime pie. That’s what you buy when you wanted lasagna noodles and then panicked in the store all by yourself feeling like every single person was eye-fucking you because surely you don’t belong in a fancy grocery store like that?

So. I have pie now, I guess? I made it home, thank fuck, sweating like a whore in church, the blood rushing in my ears. I can’t do this for crying out loud, this is ridiculous.

I hate everything. I’m trying to do the things. I’m fucking trying but nothing is making a difference.

I had a goddamn bath with a bath bomb and bubbles and shit the other day. Nothing.

Walks? Nothing.

Cleaning? I’ve run out of shit to clean. Still nothing.

Watched movies, tried to crochet again, tried to game. Nothing.

Sit on the couch, radio playing quietly because silence is deafening. Can hear the tick of the second hand on the wall clock. I love that clock, Babes, good shit. You did good on that one.

Tick tock tick tock … 6 more hours until its a decently late enough hour that I can go to bed and shut this garbage existence out for a little while.

I miss you. 153 days of missing you.