I'm in such a ferociously foul mood right now. I feel like I've been stretched to my absolute emotional limit. I couldn't possibly squeeze even the tiniest bit more negativity, sorrow, anger or hopelessness into my head because it feels like I've already somehow managed to gather every last bit of it available to me and cram it in there until it's as tight as a drum.
This is one of those "how do I keep doing this?" kind of days. The ones in which the road before me is all uphill and I'm wearing boots made of lead. I keep trudging, but I'm not getting anywhere and the boots are getting heavier with each and every step.
I'm just tired. I'm tired of feeling sad, I'm tired of missing Thomas, I'm tired of wanting him here, I'm tired of trying to get pregnant, I'm tired of failing every month, I'm tired of fertility treatments, I'm tired of feeling broken, I'm tired of pitying looks, I'm tired of endless questions, I'm tired of trying to pretend I'm okay on the days when I'm not.
I need a vacation. But unfortunately you can't have a vacation from your own life, can you?
We didn't sign up for this, My Beloved and I. And fuck it, we didn't deserve it either.