But I'm too sick inside to do so. To ashamed of myself. Asking why or what isn't going to get you anywhere. Maybe later I can explain, but not right now. I just want this to remind me to write about it.
I sometimes wish I could rip off this skin and become something else. A fish maybe, a horse. No.
At this point Charlie comes over and calms me a bit. Resting his head on my thigh, suggesting ever so slightly that he would like attention right now. After granting his wishes, I feel a little better. Not cured, no. But enough that I may can go to sleep.
I love you.