05-10-08| 1:17 pm
twenty six days of silence. I am not writing here because every day the story changes, just like it has changed every week for the last year, over one year. So wrapped up in loving a man who only sometimes loves me and alternately being okay with it, alternately hating it. It is almost emotionally abusive, I would say, only I'm too smart for that, right? The problem is I don't know what I'm doing in love, out of love, around love.
Other than that--sleeping, anxiety, sometimes joy. Not sure if I am sick because I am unhappy or I am unhappy because I am sick and I'm too scared to find out. Some days I can't breathe. Some days I can run for thirteen miles. It's a strange existence.