Over

I'm afraid that I was right.  I'm afraid that without meaning to, without intending to, without even having that the least bit in mind when I wrote that, I inadvertently said something that was entirely too true.  So be it then, it is what it is.  More than anything else, I want to curl up and disappear and not have to crawl out or think for the next week.

And then it would be fine.  It would be better.  I would have forgotten everything and anything and it wouldn't bother me anymore so I'd be fine and this would be fine and none of that would matter.  But it's not fine and I'm not fine and I'm past the point of really caring anymore.  I'm sorry.  I hate knowing that, but it's true.  It happens sometimes, and that's when I do the worst things.  Those shock me back to reality and make me capable of thinking again, but that doesn't justify or explain them.

It hurts.  That's all my mind can consciously register and that's all that matters in the least to me right now.  I just don't care.  I know that given enough time, I will.  But right now I don't.  I'm sorry.  I wish I did.  And if I tried hard enough, I could make myself care, but the fundamental problem with that is that I don't care enough to start trying.  It's not particularly complicated, and I could fix it if I wanted to.  But I just don't care.  I'm sorry.