I don’t really want to talk about this. At least not directly. I just… I need to express this feeling somewhere or else I’m not going to be able to focus all day. And I need to. I have to study.
It’s just not fair. He’s only 48.
What the hell. I want to punch something, scream at something, but I don’t want to take it out on anyone else. This isn’t their fault. It’s no one’s fault. It just… is. Sometimes I really wish I could see what the big scope is, because maybe it would then be clear to me why this might have to happen. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even allowed to feel like this. I’m not… I don’t know. I wouldn’t even know how to describe our relationship. I helped him build his office chair. I really enjoyed that.
There’s a hole in my chest. It’s cold. Sometimes I can almost feel the breeze blow through it.