I’m wide awake. My mind is racing. I don’t know what to do.

Part of me wants to walk, but it’s still so dark outside. I know I should try to get more sleep, but I can’t shut down the bad thoughts. The “it will be your turn soon” thoughts.

Oh, Nalie. I’m going to miss you so much. Your updates, your smile, your positive attitude, your aura – everything about you has been a comfort to me on this journey. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Fuck – I miss you already.

At least I have her book. I can lean on that.

It’s dark times, friends.

I find myself constantly asking if anything matters anymore. I find myself being more reckless. I find myself isolating. I don’t have much to say or give, so I put on a fake persona. A charming girl with dead eyes and a numb heart.

What do you want from me?

What do I want from me?

Honestly, I thought I’d be dead already.

I put a post up in my support group yesterday. The support and outreach was somewhat overwhelming. It felt good to be seen, like truly seen by people who live the struggle. I think I’m going to make a few friends; women I can reach out to during the darkest times. And none of them will tell me I’m a fucking inspiration or a hero. I’m just a woman trying to survive. I’m playing the cards I’m dealt. I’m not brave.