Wednesday, March 20, 2013
And the worst part is…I’m losing my will to speak. Something’s telling me I should go back on Zoloft; even if it drives me to pull an Eric Harris. I don’t understand myself…I’m not happy with where I am in life. I’m not happy with my shell. I only feel love for my boyfriend and my dog. Occasionally my family whenever our paths cross. My spirit is weary and sometimes I feel like I don’t have the stamina to hold onto this life much longer. I don’t even understand my life any how I got to this point. My creativity is at an all time low. That alone makes me want to put of glock to my head and blast off. I can’t even doodle correctly anymore. Zero talent shines through. Creative writing such as short stories and fan fiction…haven’t been able to write those in months. Maybe even 2 years. Writing used to bring me such joy. Escapism was my best friend. Now all I write about is my pathetic, lonely life. I look forward to the weekends. Some Saturdays, I get to visit my Mom. And Sundays I get to spend the entire day with my boyfriend. Those days get me through the week. But I never get a day off from worry. Everyday I’m scared to death that my baby isn't doing well. I've had to lift heavy objects in the midst of cleaning and such. Not to mention those 2 weeks of duster abuse that I had going on about 4 months ago. ..And today I’m 4 months pregnant. I have nothing more to say today.