I’m happy to be off meth, but I’m not happy. I’m miserable. The one thing missing from my life leaves the most massive void that I simply just wake up feeling impatient for the time I can go to sleep. Most nights, no matter how tired I feel, I can’t sleep. It’s always broken by either nightmares or being incapable of breathing. I’m getting to the point of crying myself to sleep at night again because that one thing (or person) is missing.
I want to set goals, and I have, but they’re unfulfilling at most. They’re just there to be there, for comfort more than for success. Every day, I work toward these empty goals that lie at the back of my mind even though I don’t really care to work toward them alone. I’m doing well. I’m working. I’m getting things done around the house. I’m on a routine schedule, kind of, but it’s just to pass the time. I’m living waiting to die. I’m living for my daughter, but waiting for the time she is on her own so I can just not be here feeling this way anymore. I know I have a long wait ahead of me, but I’ll be glad when this is all over. I love her, but I’m practically useless.
I don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t want to miss him anymore. I don’t want to hurt anymore. And I’m aware it’s my fault, but I don’t want to feel like this anymore.