I wish I could hear him say:
‘I’m with (her) and happy.
You’re forgiven for being a ****.
I’ve changed.
I’m alive. Are you?’
If he’d changed things, I could let go.
If I didn’t think of him, the depression wouldn’t be as painful – but that’s what’s bringing me back here. Remembering feeds the depression each time it gets worse. Before that, it was getting easier.
I’m getting more suicidal. I can’t and won’t kill myself, so I just have to try to accept it and work around it.
I can’t sleep again. I think I’m getting ill. I’m too hot and cold.
I crashed again today and came […]