resolve

The only bright spot in this whole shitstorm that it saves me from having to make the wrong decision. A decision I was getting closer to making until this all popped up. And now I know.

This may hurt like a motherfucker right now, there's no denying it and there's no point trying to act cool or tough or indifferent. I no longer know if the last six or seven years of my life have been real or not, and if they weren't real then I don't know what to think anymore. This, right here, is why I'm not bubbly. Because people will sacrifice you on the altar of their fucking ego, and I think it's bullshit that you have to sit there and take it with a grin and say 'oh, c'est la vie, I'm gonna go pick some flowers and wear a shit-eating grin on my face because I don't have the emotional depth to process things and I should just be happy so others won't have to feel responsible for my feelings'.

Fuck that. I feel it. Good or bad, there's no sense in acting tough, because all that shit repressed will give you cancer. Or something. Some sort of cancer.

Don't think I'm going to 'poor me' myself right into a hole. I may be down but I'm not fucking out, not by a long shot. People misconstrue me as being emo and miserable but put me in a fucking corner and I will fight my way out of it.

I dropped off Jack this AM and found out it was gonna be a little pricier because he needs ALL of his shots for them to legally treat him, but I'm gonna make it work. I have to, because now it's me and him for real.

Make no fucking mistake about it-I will get past this.

And I will stay past it.

-Rae