Some days I wake up and struggle to remember why I'm even trying to get out of bed.

I feel tired all the fucking time, no matter how much sleep I get.

It feels like there is shrapnel in my heart. It aches like its been there a while. Maybe it has and I just don't remember when it got there.

And it feels like its all the more noticeable cause of all these hormonal changes that are thrusting me back into one of the most turbulent, formative, and probably traumatic times in my life.

I feel raw and exposed. I have no certainty anymore. I'm frequently high, so I don't trust my own thought chains sometimes, and when I can remember them, they are of thoughts that are not particularly happy, or even sane.

Its hard to trust myself when I know JUST how badly I can screw everything up, even without meaning to.

And every time I try to get some active sensors on this knot of thoughts, like right now, trying to type this all out:

All I can identify is pain. Great, steaming, world-ending arsenals of pain, aimed at myself, with the abort console booby trapped and labeled "You will only end up hurting yourself if you even try to touch this. You have long since removed any hope of restoring yourself and you just have to live with this timebomb of self-destruction that could go off at any time. And if it doesn't, have fun getting old and dying."

I have really shitty handwriting.

And I'm not kind to myself.

Cause...because I still don't know that I deserve it. And despite all my friends and loved ones telling me I do. The Engine just brings up the long ago-solved proof, explaining exactly why in excruciatingly High-Def detail..

Shut up, Kelsey. get back to work. you've fucked around all week.