Death infusion

felt sick today with migraine so popped some 222's and slept in, Ken walked Strider.

some of my painted work

I am glad I do not have children, I think I would have been a terrible presence. I feel like one in Ken's and Strider's lives. So anxious. I wonder if K wonders if this will be the day he hears about me or finds me. This potential of him going through that trauma (will he feel devastated, relieved?) is what keeps me alive. The worry he might (I don't know) feel must really wear at him. Truth sometimes I resent that , it's weird kind of catch-22 that I want so desperately to be loved and simultaneously resent those who profess to love me (I don't love, how can you?), feel like it's emotional blackmail. But I don't say this to anyone because that feels pretty hurtful, manipulative. Ken works hard to be a very positive person.

I am feeling a glimpse of what it must feel like to be happy because of the 222 afterglow. I would like very much to feel this way naturally.  I have compulsive thoughts quite frequently. those longings for comfort that lead me to choose to scour my cupboard and consume whatever is there, that in the past made me choose to drink a lot, shop a lot, and other worse riskier things.

Glad my crisis has passed, these are quite horrible. A kind of unrelenting, bleak despair permeates deep into my skin, into my organs, my bones. It's not chemotherapy it's a wave death infusing then eventually passing through til next time. Blah.