Yesterday sucked.  I was all on edge and teary because of that stupid kidnapper/sex dream….At least I figure it was the dream.  Every time I thought about it, I just felt sort of ill and jolted. Why did I choose to have sex with the kidnapper?  That’s what’s really bothering me.  I wish I had just ignored the dream and not written about it.  I would like to pretend that it didn’t happen.


Actually, I would like to pretend that nothing has ever happened…though it may be too late for that one.  I just want to be regular and normal…not PTSDed and trauma-ed.  I can’t take it anymore. I am done.


Of course, it is therapy Monday…and I have to figure out where my head is before I get there.  I suppose the odds of me convincing him that it is a good idea for me to pretend that nothing ever happened are pretty low.

I just don’t care anymore.  Nothing makes a difference, nothing helps. It’s all sort of pointless.  Why am I bothering to even try?

I don’t want to do much of anything today except to crawl back into bed and pretend I don’t have feelings, I don’t care about anything and that I can hide for the rest of my life.


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