Today, all I can think is that I’m grateful that there are only 682 days left. And ungrateful that there are still so many days left. I’m exhausted, things are not changing and I am beyond ready to lay my head down and be done.
My sister and her boyfriend are moving all the kid things into their new place today. I know it shouldn’t affect me anymore, but it still does. I don’t even cry. I just become empty, I go and lay down among the detritus of my bedroom and am I very quiet. Sometimes I can feel the tears rising up in my chest and in my throat, but I don’t cry anymore. I don’t know which is worse; crying or not crying.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“I never am, today is a bad day.”
Today I go out into the world, simply so that I can go back into the ruins of my room and sleep. And I hope, genuinely, that the universe gives me a break, and I won’t wake back up.