5 weeks.

i've gotten very good at faking it.

2:24 am

crying
crying
crying.

i told God because there was
no one else to tell.

wish i didn't always want to be
someone else.
it's exhausting.

3 weeks.

i'm not doing so great,
but i'm not doing so bad,
either.

when the only thing you can think of
that will make you feel better is
sleep,
you've got a problem.

looks like i've got a problem.

is that going to be ok with you?

no.

i'm not fine.
i haven't been for awhile now.

congratulations,
you broke me.
i can't sleep without pills &
i've started seeing a therapist.
i pretty much hate myself now.

sobering, isn't it.