According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, a nightmare can be defined as “a frightening dream that usually awakens the sleeper.” If that is the case, then I am afraid of sleeping due to nightmares.

I would describe in detail what this particular nightmare was about, but I would rather not. I’ve already written it all down to talk to FL about on Monday. Let’s just say that it is truly frightening, but only in my case, and that it hurt me a lot.

Really people, is it so hard to grant a suffering woman’s wish for a brain tumor?

Why does it feel as if my heart gets ripped out everyday? Or at least stabbed, poked, and probed? Which is funny considering the fact that I consider my heart to be gone. So maybe, not all of it is gone, but a good chunk is and whatever that’s left is the one that obviously needs to be tortured.

I want a brain tumor.

(And because of all this, you wonder why I’d rather just off myself.)

You know, for a second, I actually thought I could get over this sooner, or at least feel a little better, not necessarily about myself, but just better. Even if it were just for a little while, I thought that I could feel better. But I don’t anymore. I am back down and I just don’t want to get up anymore, especially if I’m just going to keep falling.

And because of everything that’s happened to me in the last two and a half years, I really want to try and just not be attached to anyone anymore. The first year and a half was a huge regret and the next year was too painful, so I just really want to make sure that I’m not going to get hurt again. If, and I do mean if, I ever get back what was lost to me, I’m going to hold onto it for as long as I can because I cannot afford to lose it again, especially as easily as I had let it go this time. I’ll take better care of it once I find it again and until then and until I am fully ready and trusting enough, I just don’t want to get involved anymore.

That makes me sound like I want to be a hermit or alone, doesn’t it?