Right now. More than anything. I want to die.

I feel like I am hopeless.

I am not wired right.

God put me here for a reason I don’t understand. I think I’m doing better, and then I literally get sprayed with a hose.

So I’m sitting here in my wet jeans just feeling like absolute shit.

With The Ex, I’m either a secondary partner (and that won’t happy because he’ll never tell his wife about me), a mistress (and he won’t lie to her either), or a whore (which is exactly what I am right now).

Ed has to leave tomorrow to go to work. Again.

Every time I come up with something that I feel like might pull me back out of the rut it gets shat on.

This morning I went to get my driver’s license transferred and Ed forgot the necessary paperwork – he said he’d take care of it. That’s what I get for being co-dependent.

I have two pairs of jeans. The ones I’m wearing now are wet and falling apart. There is a giant hole in the knee and it’s only a matter of time before you can see my underwear through the pocket wear. The other ones are dirty. Ed keeps saying that we’ll do the laundry today but he also tells other people he’ll do other projects and so the laundry gets put off another day.

Soon, if he gets this job, he’ll be taking a 50% pay cut, and it’s not like we’re going to be doing better financially so I can get more clothes.

I’m between a rock and a hard place with him because he wants me to say I don’t care at all about The Ex, but he also wants to accept me for who I am. I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.

All I want to do is sit alone and play the piano. But I can’t.

I want to play my violin, but Ed broke the tuning on it and we haven’t taken the time to get it fixed. Everything is put off “until the house is done” but that’s not going to be for months and in the meantime we’re supposed to find some way to have a life. I don’t even know what that means.

I wanted to go and buy a drum but then I realize that’s just taking more time and spending more money that we don’t have to spend – time OR money.

Laundry, groceries, Ed’s rental car, packing. Ed leaving. Me taking the kids by myself to a conference next week. Having to pretend I’m okay with people I barely know. Things that seemed like a good idea at the time coming back to bite me in the ass just like always.

I’m so tired of the up and down. I was happy, then I found out I’m bipolar, I had a mixed episode and was suicidal for the first time in years. I feel like I ought to go and check myself into a mental hospital but I can’t, because who would take care of the kids? And what kinds of drugs would they try to put me on? And living in the mental hospital isn’t living. It’s existing, and I’m doing that anyway sitting right here.

I don’t understand all the taking on of project after project when there really isn’t time.

I am so tired of being everyone’s last priority.

I know sometimes people can’t help it, but sometimes they CAN. Right?

I’m tired of feeling like everyone’s wh


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