“I Always Knew You Were Alive.”

I don't know how much longer I can do this. Work is a fucking nightmare, not because of the job itself, but just because I'm hurting so badly.

I cannot tell if I'm genuinely doing better this time or if my mind has, again, locked everything that's too difficult up in a little box so that it feels like What Happened Hasn't Happened and I'm capable of functioning.

I wish I were the type of person who could bury myself in work when my life has gone to shit, but instead I'm the type to complete cease normal functioning. My bank account is suffering as much as I am.

The denial finally passed. Now I'm just devastated. Furious and sorrowful. I've barely been out of bed in the last few days. I don't want to be awake. He healed me, just to hurt me more than anything else ever has. I love him. I hate him.

Turns out I only needed to be cheated on to finally snuff out my very, very high libido.