Elizabeth, we’ll get through this.

I’ll tell ya what. It’s too late to go back. Too late to repair what’s broken. Too painful to believe in your words such as, “Elizabeth, we’ll get through this.” It’s too hard a climb to move forward. I have no strength. I don’t believe anymore, because whenever I do, I get locked away.

The only reason I haven’t swallowed a drawer full of pills is because I’m just too chicken shit to feel the pain for those brief moments before slipping away for good. Only reason.

Part of me wants to hide away for the next 5 months until this is all over. Part of me wants to fight. Part of me wants to run.

Most of me wants to just drown.

This is not life.

This is hell.

I assure you, this is nothing to be jealous of, as you stated so clearly. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there are others very jealous of you.” That’s what you said to me. Why? Because I lost my mind? Why? Because I was thrown into a system that I’ll never get out of? Why? Because I lost friends, family, n everything I own? Why? Because you lied to me when you said you loved me? That we were best friends? Because you stole from me? And hit me? And accused me? Because you stole every fucking last bit of joy seeping through my viens? Because you disappeared without trace?

And you flat out claimed to be an angel. And Satan.

No, “we” are not getting through this. Because there is no “we”. Never was. Never will be.

“We” nothing.

You can go ahead and get through it.

I don’t have the strength anymore.

Encouragement from others falls short.

No one could possibly understand the depth of myself that I let you, and only you, see.

I’m charred. To the bone.

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