1:17 in the morning

It’s 12:38; I just woke up. I slept for not even an hour. It seems all good things go to waste, and whatever I do, I always do or say the wrong thing. Sounds like a pity party, maybe it is.

I bruise easily. I don’t trust easily. I doubt all the time. And I seldom fall in love. But if I do, I fall head over heels, and I feel it everywhere – in every cell. I don’t open up to people, and usually, I keep them at arm’s length; that way, they can’t hurt me. I don’t trust that anyone can or will understand me or my circumstances. But when someone finds a way under my skin, then I don’t hold back. I am intense and overwhelming. It is hard to keep up with my moods; I know that well. But it is worth it. As arrogant as it may sound, I am a special woman. I am patient, and kind, and gentle, and loyal, and understanding, caring, loving, funny, beautiful, intelligent… (You are allowed to add more if you want…)

These days, I am having some kind of existential crisis.

Happiness comes from within. Just, right now I can’t be happy because I am in so much physical pain. And I am scared that if my shoulder doesn’t improve, I will have to find a new job. But there was never another job for me. So… Right now, I doubt, and I am not happy.

I am scared. I don’t know what to do, and I have been carrying that thought with me for a while now. My whole life, I wanted to be an educator. And most of that time, I wanted to work with babies and toddlers. There was never a plan B. If my shoulder continues to act up, I won’t be able to work in my dream job anymore.

I shared that thought with a friend who always says he wants me to be happy. I explained why I cannot be right now, and he took it as aggressiveness — that hurt. I was completely misunderstood. Sure, blame it on the fact that we were texting, but he should know me enough by now to know it it was not meant to be aggressive.

And it makes me tired of people again. It makes me recoil, and I want to hide. It makes me curse at myself for having been open. I want to build a wall around me again, and vanish.

Maybe I am best when I am alone. I mean, I am not often alone because of the kids, kids I mean when I don’t share what’s going on inside me. Isolated.

Stay. Go. Abandoned. Rejected. Misunderstood. But whatever happens, I am always to blame.

I hate it, and hate is an ugly emotion.

Right now, I am angry. And I am disappointed. Disheartened. Sad.

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