October 8, 2018

Bad news bears. My mom’s dog died. It’s hard to explain to people when your dog is ACTUALLY your best friend how hard this is.

It’s hard. Loss is hard.

I can’t seem to eat, drink, sleep, exercise, laugh, run, avoid, work, or beg the sadness away. How do people get out?

Day 120 – Sad Day

October 4, 2018

Avoid, avoid, avoid.

Still haven’t made my deadline. Of course. Still haven’t written a word. Of course. Still haven’t faced any of my feelings. Of course. Is it obvious that I hate myself? Is it spilling off this page? If I could punish myself with words, I would. If I could punch myself into feeling better, I would.

There’s no way, it seems, to erase the pain. The well is deep. The feelings in there are fucking awful.

In the words of The Grinch, “I loathe myself.”

Day 116 – Dark Day.