A friend told me yesterday that writing was my thing but I needed to write for the happy people out there, which is why I write almost nothing now. I don't open my hard journal to write within. I'm no happy.
I want to drug myself. Not with the good kind either. Not in the responsible way. I want to down the vicodin and just go to sleep. Turn my face to the back of the couch and close my eyes.
I'm angry at Z because he can't save me. He won't. Despite understanding that no one can nor will, I still want it. I CAN NOT SAVE MYSELF! I don't know how.
I want to go to the hospital or to kill myself. I can't do either. What happens to Em? There's no one to help her. My family is too busy to come here and take care of her. If I send her, what happens to my home? The animals? My job.
All I want to do is one of those things.
No one has time for crazy.
I'm in a dangerous place.
And all I can do is go to sleep. Wake up tomorrow and act like nothing is wrong.
Some one please help me.