I am not suicidal today, but I am pretty damn miserable.  I love my husband, but the situation seems increasingly hopeless.

I feel like a little kid with a shit ton of grown up problems.  It's like I woke up from a really long bad dream, but the mess didn't go away when I opened my eyes.  It's all there, and it's so unfixable.  Maybe I should just be happy to be off smack, and to be alive, and all thatr good garbage, but I'm not.  I feel like my life is ruined, and there's no way to make it right.  I feel like I wasted my life, my potential, and anything else I had that was worth anything.  If I had it all again, I'd change it all.  Every last fucking thing.  People who say they don't believe in regret are just too young or arrogant to know any better. 

Being insane was easier.  My dellusions gave me a place to hide.  In the cold, raw world, I'm just a basket case in a really bad situation.  I get to look back at every mistake with a clear  mind, and I get to see just how screwed up I am, now.  I get to see it, but the drugs don't make me well enough to really fight it.  I can barely function.  So, my reality is about trying not to hate myself, or do anything crazy.  I succeed with the latter most days, but the former never seems to work out.

I just want another chance.  I want to get it right.  I want to wake up, and have a chance to build a different life.  But, that's never going to happen.