widow for a year

sometimes 2+2=5
sometimes 2+2=4
sometimes 2+2=3

sometimes, all three are true at once. it's enough to make you want to blow your brains out.

-+-

called out sick yesterday. i couldn't bear to go in. used up my first sick day of the year. i'd better parcel out the remainder of my allotment more prudently. it's going to be a long year.

my depression has been renewed and fortified lately. just fired our marriage counselor for being shitty. now i gotta find a new one that isn't so terrible. (you can email me privately if you've any leads.) till then, every day is another nail in my coffin. each day widens the rift.

too depressed to cry. i have all weekend to weep my eyes out in privacy, but i end up getting choked up on the train to work. what's wrong with me...?

-+-

things not to say to malice:

"it's not the end of the world..."
"it's just a girl..."
"you're young... you have your whole life ahead of you..."
"this is the worst of it -- it'll get easier..."
"maybe she never really loved you..."

-+-

it's been 5 months. each day, a part of me dies. i'm resuscitated, i'm killed, resuscitated, killed. i should wear a bracelet: 'no heroic measures'. maybe i'm better off dead. has anyone considered this possibility??

you've never been alone if you've never been alone like this.