Sometimes it hurts so bad just to breath, to know I am still alive and living this hell.
can't you tell I'm dying inside
can't you hear my muffled cry
Walking in stores depresses me more than anything. I feel like a empty shell of who I used to be. Why am I buying this stuff? Where will I put it? Where will I live the rest of my life?
Classic story of girl depressed, but no on knows because she hides it well. Classic bullshit ranting on a online dairy. The kind I bitch about all the time.
If you really don't want to read past this, feel free. I am now going to bitch about the things I never want to deal with again in my life. This is my therapy, not yours....so feel free to skip this.
I never want to live near water again. I never want to live so close to the beach that when I drive home from work in the afternoon I look straight ahead and smile at how pretty the sun setting on the water looks. I will never see the beach the same way I once did, and don't try to make me. The bitch took everything I had worked for, I cherished and tore through it in less than 24 hours. A lifetime of memories covered in water and thrown down the street. The ocean can kiss my ass. The ocean took away the comfort of a home, my bed...my life.
Most of all it took away a 12-year-old boy that had become like a child to me. It made me have to tell that boy that he had lost everything he owned and send him away from the one place that he had done well at.
I never want to hear another helecopter, red cross truck horn or people talking about how horrible the storm was.
I want to be able to cry without feeling guilty because there are "so many people worse off than me".
LET ME CRY! LET ME GRIEVE!
I guess Paul and I will be moving into our FEMA trailer this weekend. It is a far cry from our two bedroom townhouse. We will have to figure out how to do our schedules and make it to work and back.
How will our future be? I don't know. I can't tell you.
I still look at things like a christmas village on a store shelf and think of the one I had just finished and Clifford's Christmas stocking......all the ornaments my brother and I made as a child. Gone.
I don't think I want to keep a online journal anymore.
Maybe sometime when things calm down.
Sorry.