Black, fucking dark, bang my head against the wall depressed.
 
Whatever I was supposed to be doing, I'm lost here. All my new-found bravery is gone. I feel like I'm just sitting here watching the days turn into weeks turn into months. And I can't find the strength to help it.
 
Loser. Stupid, sore loser.
 
And it fucking freaks me out that everything I seem to want to write about relates to Bel. What is up with that, really. Normal recovery, dettachment activity inside me, or pussy yellowpants at her finest? I just don't know.
 
I hate feeling this way. I have to lock myself in the bathroom to cry, because I don't want Tim to wonder what's going on.... mainly because I don't know, either. I don't want to hurt him. This is not his fault.
 
Why am I stuck? What's wrong with me?