I'm having a wonderful time, yet finding myself growing more sad and depressed. Scared and exhausted.
I don't understand.
My father has not done or sad anything inappropriate.
I'm in NY, I've seen a Broadway play, spent hours in Central Park and Battery Park. I'm living my dream.
But I'm not enjoying it.
I've been on edge, extremely hypervigilant for a week now.
I want to go home. I want to see my boyfriend whom I miss terribly. I want to play with my dogs. I want to sleep in my own bed.
I don't want to go home. I don't want to walk into that house, walk in that ROOM and be flooded with memories.
I don't know. I'm rambling. There's a million things going on inside of my head, a million feelings, a billion thoughts, I can't seem to pinpoint a single one.
I wish I could just open my mouth and close my eyes and all of the things that are trapped inside of me are released, silently screaming from within and polluting the air around me instead of poisoning my insides.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck