What began as an adventure has quickly spiralled into motionless realm. That which once encouraged anticipation, now generates vexation. Too many evenings of solitude tends to harden a person- occasionally to the point of desperation. 6 hours no longer seems too long for the touch of a hand that does not belong to a 6 year old.
The seemingly positive news that only 5 moths remains drives me further to the edge, rather than hearten retreat. There is a reason, I just don't see it. And I struggle.
~stop sending the message I don't want to get~
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