Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.
In a matter of months, six at the most, I've thought myself into a black hole. With nothing but brainwaves, I've turned a life of near perfection into a quagmire. I hate myself for it. I don't know what to do.
I'm so afraid of being alone. I always have been. Yet, for the first time, I also feel like I need to prove something to myself, by myself. My dismal scene I needs must act alone. Something like that.
Fuck. It's a selfish thought. It's not just my life. For the first time, I baulk at the idea that my life is not entirely my own. I have never been in this situation. I don't know why I'm having these thoughts now. I don't know where they come from. They are destructive and disastrous. I shouldn't be having them. I shouldn't be writing them down.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what would be best for everyone. Maybe, in a few days, I'll bleed and stop being so goddamn dramatic. It could all be nothing, just so much bullshit in the mind of a woman with bad genes who is becoming increasingly right-brained as she ages. (Stupid aside: which way do you see the dancer turning? I stare as hard as I can, focus my eyes every which way, and I can only see her going clockwise. If I scroll down so I can only see her foot, can make her go the other way, but blink hard, and it's clockwise again.)
This is so awful. I feel like I'm in an abyss. What am I doing.