I Hate Being Broken

I feel like I am just hanging on the edge of breaking down. I feel so broken, little tiny minuscule cracks just waiting for that final tap to send me tinkling to the flow like the shards of crystal from a dropped wine glass. If I didn’t feel it so strongly I would feel like it is merely me waxing poetic. However it just hurts.

I have moments of clarity where happiness shines through. They are short and often followed by anger about everything in my life. Only my wonderful husband and my house being built keep me going each day.

I don’t know what to do with myself or what to be. I feel like it is going to be a very long 6 months and I’m not entirely sure if I will make it. I’m just taking it day by day hoping that nothing pushes me to the point where I completely freak out on someone or something.

One day I will sit down and write all the things that are irking me for now, I will just say in miss music. I hear it now and often cry because I can’t listen to it the way I did when I was in my own home. I hated that apartment but I was at least free to be me.

This feels like prison!

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