I’m in a pit. Anything vaguely positive I am spinning into justification for why I should die. What have I done in the past?

I tried to let the love of my friends carry me through. Holy shit is that the pit of despair at this point. I don’t feel loved. I feel judged. I feel found wanting. I feel deficient and pathetic and stupid and oh my poor children.

I don’t want to feel better about myself because some shitty person thinks I’m great. I want to be so fucking nasty and cutting about many of the people I have depended on for my self worth. I want to rake them over the coals and absolutely eviscerate them based on their flaws.

Only I don’t. That won’t make me feel better.

I want to feel like I have worth and value in the world. And I don’t. I mean, I’m a milk supplier. I am still mandatory childcare. Does that mean I am counting the days? 16 years, 10 months and 3 weeks till I am fully expendable?

It’s tied in with my mother and Brittney and my sister and Anna and Marcie and Sarah and Kira and Angela and Deborah. If it were grief about one person I could cope. It isn’t.

I think that part of what I liked about Malaysia was knowing no one. I didn’t have to feel disappointment when no one would keep their promises.

Because mostly… people don’t keep their promises. And I internalize that. I can still remember my step father picking me up and shaking me: “If you didn’t make it happen it was because you DIDN’T TRY HARD ENOUGH.”

If I can’t get someone to do something it is because I failed. Because I am bad. Because I didn’t work hard enough.

I can’t do enough work to be lovable. It is very hard to keep working as I incrementally give up on any chance of being loved.

I grow increasingly paranoid that my children will leave the day they turn 18. Why would they want to stay in a relationship with me? Only Noah does.

I want to mutilate my body so very much.

I miss pot.