Un

I want what other people have. I want to be married. I want a family life and a house and I want to share my time with a man that I am in love with. I had it. Almost. Except for the house.

I am not doing well. This sudden onlslaught of renewed grief is killing me. Chris is all I can think about. Us. The us that we were. My life was so much more beautiful then.

I hate everything. I’m reading my psychology book and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why. Why am I doing it? Why and I in school? Why do I work?

I turned off my phone because I can’t deal with getting a phonecall right now.

People my age have husbands and homes that they bought together and hopes and dreams. They support each other emotionally, just like Chris and I did.

I’m not doing well. I shouldn’t be talking about what I wish I had or who I wish was still here. I’m not allowed anymore. I’m having a difficult spell. That’s all this is, but it’s wreaking havoc and making me feel very unloved, unworthy, unimportant and terrified that I will never be in love again.