Tried to explain my fears to my mom and it didn’t go well. To be expected. Got a Xanax prescription from my doctor who initially refused to give me one, but as it turns out ugly crying in front of your cis doctor gets the goods. Unexpected win.

Even going on 8 years, I still am that bitch who carries a Polaroid of my fiancée. What’s my phone background? My fiancée. Do I want to go out? No, I want to go home to my fiancée.

I know it’s an overused platitude, but I genuinely do not have a single clue how I could possibly feel any drive to go about things as normal. How the hell do I keep going to work and not feel my soul drain out through my toes?

Anyway.. here’s something I wrote about a person who eventually hurt me.

BPD babes, I’m about it.

Thinking about this series and how it totally took over the area of my middle school brain that I think was otherwise reserved for Warrior Cats.

Just absolutely overwhelmed by the love I feel from this creature.