it ain't no use to sit and wonder why.

I am so desperate for comfort but cannot find it anywhere. I keep thinking how I could possibly tell my family. Mom, Dad, Sis, Bro...I have PTSD. Most days now I cannot find a reason to carry on.

MP lies in my bed. It's after 3:30 am, I should be there with him but I don't want to hear him sleeping when I'm so tortured. I'm laying on my ground, main floor, drinking wine instead. Listening to Vonda and wondering why I am who I am. WHY. Why do I have to have my past? Why can't I just be there person I was? Fun, confident, exciting. Normal. Someone ppl called to invite out. Called to be with. Now it's just...solitude.


All the time.