That's what this week has been like. I feel like banging my head against the wall until the pain stops. I wish I could fall for an eternity, with no strings, no voices, nothing to hold onto, no one to pull me back to reality, away from the things that mean the most to me. I'm tired of dealing with people that think they are the only ones with problems in the world. That they are the only ones that get to bitch and gripe about how miserable life is, and how crappy their day was. Sometimes I can be the supportive ear, sometimes I can sympathize and if at all possible I will try to take a little bit off their plate. But not this week. Right now all I want is to have my own freakin breakdown. For once I want people to look at me and say, gee this is really getting to you. You aren't just a little stressed, something is really f*in going on here. And if people can't do that, if they can't see that I am in need of a serious mental and emotional breakdown, that I need to be secluded from life for 24 to 46 hours, that I need to recharge and find out who the hell I am and where the hell I went, then I don't want to see them and I don't want to be around them because it is just one more thing for me to deal with.
And I just don't have the strength.
That being said, my writing life is stuck in neutral. I gotta figure out how to switch gears before I crash and burn.