Today wasnt exactly what I would call *a good day*. In fact, it was down right difficult. At the present moment I am attempting to force myself into some sense of calm. It aint workin’.

Ive spent much of the day in a haze. I had what should be concerned a good day physically.. but even the good moments were sickly ones. I do not like being alone. I do not trust my mental or physical state enough to feel safe when I am alone. I just wish that there were someone that could sit with me for a while. Just so I didnt feel so afraid. Then again, Im afraid of everything.. so what would it matter? I think the more I learn about my diseases the more terrified I become. I think my mistake was defining them instead of just having them. When I didnt understand what they meant, I was much better as a person. But its too late to go back now. Now Im just sad. Sad that Im unable to live the way Id like to. Sad that I have to live at all. Sad that people are either unable to stick by my side through this.. or just plain dont want to. Illness is a cruel motherbleeper! Im suppose to write this and find a way to cope. The only thought in my mind at the moment is wonder… wonder if tomorrow I will still be here.. and if so.. if anyone else will. There are a million pretty girls out there without all the complications… so why would anyone want an ordinary looking fat girl who is mentally and physically ill? Hes here for now.. but I wouldnt blame him if he chose something better. His ex did just pop up out of nowhere yesterday… always happens that way. The ex… wants to be friends. The spouse who can hardly function isnt giving enough.. and so… yeah… I hate to worry about it. But logic tells me Im gonna be spending a lot more time alone. I just dont know if I can deal with all of this. Im trying really hard to understand… to be positive. But reality is… Im a fucking loser right now. I never wanted to be. I dont like being… and Ive tried everything I know. But Im sick.. Its not just one thing.. its several.. and one is more than most people are willing to deal with. Problem is, I dont have a choice. I have to deal with it because its my illness. I wish I could escape myself. I wish I could have a day where I didnt have to take medications or knew what the hell I was doing. I wish I didnt have to think about what is to come.. or if anything will come. But I dont have that choice. He does. He can walk at any point and I will still be left with this. I knwo this. I think about this. I worry about this. I fear this. All I can do is accept it to be a possibility. Prep myself for the heartbreak. And hope that it doesnt work out that way. Fucking ex girlfriends. Fucking love. Fucking emotions. Fucking life. The fact that I dont want to do this anymore is enough to say my meds arent doing the trick. The thoughts are supposed to subside. So why the fuck am I sitting here feeling this way? Im doing what they tell me to do and its just not enough. It is never enough. Does anyone ever get better? I mean, does ANYONE ever get their life back? Or am I just dreaming of something unattainable?