I’ve Written Pages Upon Pages Trying To Rid You From My Bones

I’ve having a hard time right now. Everything feels off and wonky and misplaced.

I wonder how long I’m going to feel like I’m just watching my life go by.

I am surrounded by incredibly smart, talented people who are living life. They are loving, and living, and raising children, and partners, and making differences in other people’s lives, and traveling around the world fulfilling their passions. And I’m just, here. Night after night with my cat, and my computer, and a bottle of antidepressants trying to figure out how to survive another day.

I have two jobs that aren’t terrible, and I’m relatively healthy and it should be enough. But it’s not. And I don’t know how to fix it. And I feel so so broken and I don’t know how to fix it. I just want to fix it. I want to be an active participant in my own life again. I want my friends’ success to stop throwing my own failures into sharp relief.

I just want to fix it.

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