December 2010
1 post
1 tag
I feel identical to the time directly before the death I barely survived. I feel as I did, medicated and alone this summer following the end of inpatient treatment. I feel like sitting on my parent’s floor and in support groups sobbing. I feel like I want somebody to rush in and watch me cry, beg me to know what’s going on, and to know what to say. I can’t tell you how many times...