Of Struggles and Silence

13,025 Days Alive

I’m… still not okay. I don’t have the spoon to go into it much, but suffice it to say that I’m terrified I’m going to lose my job. And by extension my place or live and car and everything.

I just don’t have a lot of fight left in me.

I’m going to bed.

Take your meds , folks.

Of Spaghetti and Suicidal Thoughts

13,024 Days Alive

1 Bowl of Pasta Eaten

I’m more exhausted than a NASCAR tailpipe right now, and I’m fried from work, so I’ll be quick.

I’m really, really in a dark place right now. I’m having trouble with the mental radio.

I’m not okay. But I’m going to do my best to power through this down slide.

I’m going to go cry myself to sleep.

Take your meds, folks.