I realized what was happening. I’m just sick. So sick.
Sick of having to discard precious, treasured memories again and again. What I held so dear close to my heart, now have to pretend it doesn’t matter anymore. Now I have to forget them, trash them away. How can anyone do that so easily?
But I am also sick of having my faith torn down again and again by empty promises.
Sick of believing and being let down again and again.
Sick of losing myself and my entire identity to have no clue what I am supposed to do now.
Sunday, I feel a fifth better. No more strong urges, no more crying. just that dull ache, from the hope that refuses to leave but wormed its way through my heart trying to evade even myself.