It sure feels like it. My every day feels like I’m facing a finality, like my time here is spiraling down. Is it real? Or is it just my mental state that’s crying out, telling me that the depression is starting to sink in.
Or maybe it’s wishful thinking.
When I was driving home from work tonight, I suddenly realized, that Sam is dead. And I screamed out that I don’t want him to be dead. But this realization hits me several times a week. At worst, it can sucker punch me in the gut several times in one day.
I keep thinking that somehow, this whole circumstance can be fixed. But sure as the rain that’s hitting my window right now…at 2 am ; it’s not fixable.
I want my son back.
So, is this darkness: this bleak landscape that I see laid out in front of me now, the end? It sure feels like it.
I don’t seem to be getting any sleep tonight. FML .
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