I know, you’re like “duh, why else would you be here?” But ugh.
Last night there was a spider on my ceiling and I had a legit panic attack. Usually I kill the spider, but it just made me think about my ex that would save the spider and put it outside. I got on my bed and tried so hard to kill the spider, but I couldn’t. I laid down my bed and stared at the spider as my breathing and heart rate increased. I was thinking that it was a poisonous spider that would kill me in my sleep. But isn’t that what I want? To die? And what a perfect way to die than to get bit by a spider and then drift to death in my sleep.
I ended up killing the spider after gathering every ounce of strength I had. It was such a small spider that I felt ridiculous for overreacting. I just laid on my bed and fell asleep. I was exhausted. I tired myself out over a fucking spider.