well the bratty-boring loneliness has allowed me to work myself into a full-fledged, woe-is-me, pity party. it’s not pretty. i’m hot, sweaty and my eyes are all red and puffy. but my breathing has returned to normal.
it wouldn’t have been so bad if i weren’t convinced i was gonna die in three weeks. see, it started with i’m gonna die in three weeks and nobody will have ever loved me and i won’t have had sex in 15 months and my apartment will be messy and i won’t ever get to have a baby and well, you can see that it just gets worse from there.
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Jodi… You are NOT going to die in three weeks. You won’t even twist your ankle or get a bug bite on your boob again.
You are capable of being loved, physically and emotionally.
I’d go on, but I think you know where I’m heading.