Eeek. So much raw unbridled emotion. I finally got enough out last night to fall asleep, but I don’t think it did anyone any good other than getting me to sleep. I suppose it’s something I can go back to read and assess when I’m feeling better. Heh, “feeling better”, oh the irony. Sometimes, I wonder if I should talk at all, because I feel like I’m not understood. Then, I’m staring at the coffee pot, not understanding what I’m forgetting, and I think about how unfortunate understanding is, and how easily we get it wrong.

And in a surge of empathy for everyone I’ve ever dated, I’m lying in my bed crying at 8am. Last night when I woke up my mother she made a comment about my feeling helpless and that I still got to decide what actions I take with my emotions. Well, I’m not doing anyone any good, including myself. Back to self introspection I suppose. It still feels like such a waste regardless of the reality of it being appropriate or not. I want to hug my father. I want to tell everyone else that it will be okay.