I’m not going to rip on someone for being a bad friend. Well, not someone else anyway. The bad friend is me.
I’m distracted and disappointed. I’m exhausted and restless.
I feel so much like I need a friend, yet I’m a terrible one.
Thank you to those of you who have reached out… or replied when I reached out. I’m sorry I’m the least fun person on earth right now. I’m sorry I never have good news. Not just sorry for you for that one…
I don’t know what wrongs I’ve committed… there must be some huge ones… because otherwise, I’m not sure why I deserve all that has been going on in my life.
I try to separate it from here. I want to write something decent… and not talk about all the badness. I want an escape… I need an escape. But I can’t have one. The troubles follow me. They refuse to get out of my head and they’re hard to ignore when they come with physical pain that, apparently, cannot be resolved.
What I wouldn’t give for someone to hold me and tell me it’s all going to get better. Even if that’s a lie.