Weekends are the hardest. So much time for rumination and introspection. Thinking = overthinking and awake = thinking and so on an so forth. Unfortunately even when I’m asleep, I’m thinking…dreaming. I can’t escape it. The hurt, the pain, the misery, the desperate loneliness. It’s all there, always. No respite.
Work days are easier…pretend to be normal. Do work stuff. Go home. Watch a little tv. Go to bed. Rinse. Repeat.
Quality of life is low. Droning on day after day. Nothing to look forward to. No love to come home to. No good mornings, no good nights. Just me, my thoughts, and my broken heart.