- How hard it is to be strong. How I feel so weak. How pathetic it is to have let something like a chemical take over my life. But it was the only thing that worked! It cured my headaches. It cured my depression, for awhile! It became my way out of life, and everything was simple when all I worried about was my fix.
Please just f*cking tell me I'm being hormonal and these aren't real emotions or real cravings. Please tell me this will go away by morning. Please.
I should stop being so scared and just get the results of that medical test. I'm sure I'm fine. Monday. I'll call the clinic on Monday and just sleep all weekend and plot with Hanna and f*ck around with GIMP. I know that's what I do anyway, essentially. But it's the escape I need.
I'm not just being melodramatic. There really is a chance, albeit a very, very small one, that I might actually be sick. That's something I'm allowed to worry about, right?
Even when I sleep, I do not rest. I dream of being trapped, shackled. Even sober, my subconscious does not yet feel free.