Yesterday was one of those days where my emotions hovered between sobbing and extreme anger.
Last night I polished off a bottle of wine and added in some Klonopin to calm the anxiety.
I'm tired of trying to hide my pain, but my family doesn't need to worry about me.
As long as dinner is served every night I feel somewhat accomplished.
People wonder what happened to me when we make contact after a long time of not talking.
It's definitely not you, it's me.
Well, it's kind of you too.
You ask questions.
If I answer you honestly, you'll never look at me the same way again.
I nod and smile.
On the outside I seem okay to you.
If I say it, you hear it as "good".
You're pretty stupid if you believe that.