Persephone

God I haven’t felt so hopeless and depressed in my entire existence. The worst is, there is literally no one or anything I can let that out on in my life. The only reason I vent here is because no one I know will see it. Can’t stop crying. I just want to go wait some fucking tables and hug my son dammit.

I just want to sit in the silence unbothered.

Plagued with guilt, forsake me, a guilt of which is not mine. Nor yours. To be what is, to feel diminished. Broken down. To call it trauma feels distorted, selfish even but in a way after feeling as if I’ve heaved every cry that could come out of my lungs... traumatic still shifts through my mind. Disintegrated and anguished, if we both end up hurt the fault is mine no less.

It has been seven miserable months. Seven. For the life of me, why was I excited to take this job? What was I possibly expecting? How in my right mind could I have thought being away from my son as much as I am, would be any good? Well plainly, I’ve never been in my right mind. For seven miserable months I’ve been at this job. I should have quit when I had the chance. My car wouldn’t have broken down, or at least broken down so fast, if I wasn’t driving 70+ miles a day. I would have had time to fix it, less stress would have been put on it. But it did break down. Now I’m tied to a new car payment, so I can get to the job I hate so much, subsequently tying me to this job that makes me so goddamn miserable. For seven months.