Late night therapy

So, what do you do when you're crying so much that you think you're going to throw up? When you're gasping for air like a fish on land? This is my third night in my new apartment, and everything is utter chaos. In all possible ways, my mind is just as messy as the surroundings. Boxes everywhere, with half forgotten content, and nowhere to put it once it gets unpacked.

I had actually gone to bed, quite tired after weeks with this moving business. Suddenly it caught me like a riptide, dragging me under - I'm alone, and I wish I wasn't! It could have been rather OK to be by myself, if there only had been a future in it. But as it is I'm going to stay alone, and that is tough to realize. All this probably sounds like a lot of BS. Both for you who know me and everyone else. And yes, I can hear your voices, telling me: "PLEASE, get a grip on your self, there are other people out there!" Well, you heard it before: I DON'T CARE!

Writing is good. It's like Prozac for me, keeps me from not losing it all together. So I must admit that this post is purely for my own benefit. Maybe they all are, but usually a bit more disguised. Not so obviously selfpitying.

But at least it helped, and that is my answer to the opening question. I write for therapy. And again, if that had been the whole and undivided truth you wouldn't be reading this now...