From My Heart

I don't know how to survive right now. I don't know how to muster up enough energy to make it through the days. I am completely thrown with health issues and while I know I have family and friends I can rely on, people who love me more than I can ever know, people who would drop their lives to help me live mine, I still have never, ever, ever felt more alone and deserted.

I am so tired.
Exhausted.
Beaten.
I am not well.

It is going to be a long and hard road to get my body healthy again. It's going to take a shitload of commitment and serious, hard-core routine doctor visits, a strict diet, medication, exercise & positive thinking to get myself healthy again.

I have never felt more
depleted
dry &
vaporized
in my life.

My mom and aunt spent the weekend with me, and just left earlier this afternoon. "It was nice to spend time with my old niece last night," my aunt said today. "The smiling, laughing, entertaining niece I've always taken care of."

It boils down to me not being able to take care of myself right now. I don't want to be alone. Because as soon as I'm all alone, no one here to distract me or talk to, the piercing truth of my reality cuts into my heart and soul. I so desperately wish I wasn't alone right now. I have to eat dinner and take my medicine, but I can barely keep my eyes open right now. I am so drained that I can barely think straight. I wish I wasn't alone. I wish I wasn't alone. I wish I did have the boyfriend-kind of love and support where I can trust, rely and feel safe when I need help making soup or taking a shower because I've been throwing up all night or freezing cold from another high fever.

I know I'm not alone.

But I am afraid you're wrong.

I'm alone right now.

I'm afraid I will always be alone.

This is, slowly but surely, becoming my reality.

I don't know what's happening, but I am not healthy, and I wish I wasn't here alone, living, working, not sleeping and not eating because I am just too wiped out to even take care of myself the way I desperately need to be taken care of.

But more than my body needs nourishment and continuous, careful care, the more my heart begins to hurt and cringe with shots of pain at realizing... feeling... regretting... that I'm going through, most likely, the roughest patch I've ever hit next to my rape. Even rougher than close family and friends dying. Rougher than revisiting the house I was raped in. Worse than knowing I have a really, long, hard road ahead of me is feeling like I may never get that kind of love and support from a man who will stand with me during times like these.

I am, after all, standing here... or should I say, lying here... all alone... again.

So tired.

Goodnight.