You think…

You think I’m here. I’m not really here. I’m two steps behind and one to the left of everyone else. In a slightly OTHER world somewhere.

You think I’m listening. I’m not really listening. Your words are fuzzy and not worth remembering. The sound of your voice is getting lost in the slush that is my brain.

You think I’m ok. I AM NOT OK. 1/2 of me is dead and I don’t know how to tell you this. I’ve lost something great and I’m grieving.

Here’s the thing. I don’t know HOW to be ok and I don’t know HOW to tell people how I’m feeling. All I can say is I feel like shit. Lot’s of people say that. They don’t know what shit feels like. I find myself crying because there are so many things I want to do and I just can’t seem to do them. I used to read or scrap to ‘escape’ myself. I can’t even do that now. I just keep wandering around my messy house and noisy kids wondering what the hell am I going to do. I don’t know how much more I (or my kids… or my husband) can take of this.


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