Waking up is agony I tell you. Complete and utter writhing agony.
Just when I think the anti-depressants are kicking in, Yuto has been in the hospital since the 3rd. It’s been a week and there’s no work on when he can go home.
Even though I’m not the one and should not be the one footing the bill, I feel an exacerbated financial strain. It’s igniting the other sparks in my mind that were flickering out. That and the worry, and the never-ending helplessness that I feel, compiled with basically being a walking corpse riddled with sadness, exhaustion and the flu.
Why am I even here? Why do I wake? Why is it absolutely essential that my body chooses to refuse the sweet oblivion of forever sleep?
So, I communicated that I need Sister #2 to reflect and admit to her horrendous behaviour over the years. I get the suspicion that she thinks I’m crazy for calling her out on the things she did because she doesn’t remember any of it. But why would I make it up? Just to drive myself mad?
I am mad, that much has been established. However, I am not of the opinion that I did that to myself. I need her to validate my feelings on what she’s done to me. I feel like I miss her a little.
Most of all, I need her to be aware that she has the choice of doing so. Because if she doesn’t, I don’t know if there will come a point where she will never be able to.
But, maybe she knows and it doesn’t bother her. Maybe I have to come to terms with the fact that I’ve said my piece and I no longer have to take my pain and indignation to the grave.
I did a similar thing to my horrible youngest aunt and her spouse 2 weekends ago. Also because she was rude to me at an apt timing and I wanted them to know their sins before, if ever, I lost the chance to tell them.
It truly does take some of the weight off. All they ever did was make the loneliness worse.
Now, I’m just biding my time till I can accumulate a sizable amount of pills.