As I scream my discontent into the abyss, I’m reminded that we are… all… in fact in this together. That means as angry as I am that I’ve been locked inside for eight days at this point, everyone else is. Or, at least I am hoping they’re locked inside and as miserable as I am. Is that a weird thing to wish for? Probably. But, EVERYONE needs to be inside and miserable right now. Lives depend on it.
Where am I at with life right now? My boyfriend is lying to me. I know he’s lying to me. I don’t know particularly what it is exactly that he’s not telling me, but he’s coming up with an awful lot of excuses as of late, and the excuses he’s feeding me are not adding up. At first I thought he was cheating on me. Now, I’m thinking that he might actually be selling drugs. How fucking sad is it that I breathed a sigh of relief when I thought he was a drug dealer versus a cheater? Also, when did I become this insecure shell of a human? I really don’t like this version of myself.
I’m not sleeping well.
I’m anxious all of the time. All of the fucking time. The world is metaphorically burning. There are more people on life support than there are respirators to save them. I don’t want to get sick. I also want to get on a plane and go confront my boyfriend. Another piece of me wants to see just how long it’ll take him to actually tell me the truth. I don’t know what to do.
I’ve been having a hard time eating.
I miss the way life used to be. When I felt happy. When everything made sense in the world.
WEST COAST BLONDE 