Sure hate to break down here..

I had a bit of a panic attack today as I was cleaning my room, generally I find it theraputic to throw stuff out-my room is so tiny that, occasionally, I start to get overwhelmed and feel trapped with the amount of crap in it so today was cleaning day and I just chucked a whole bunch of stuff. I moved on from my shelves to my closet and began the even harder undertaking of choosing what was worth it to keep and what was just sentimental crap that I needed to get rid of to move on and that's when I found the box. Ted's box. Filled with cards and a teddy bear and jewelery and watch that I gave him for his birthday that he gave back to me, through a friend, after we broke up. Well I taped that box up nicely with duct tape, put it to the side for burning later, and tried to figure out what to do with the watch, I decided to take a hammer to it and about five minutes ago you could find me (as my curious neighbors did) banging the shit out of that hundred and sixty dollar watch with a metal hammer over the sewar grate in the parking lot of my complex.

It was great, theraputic, a moment of growth! Pictures were taken and the moment was shared!

And then I broke down, freaked out, took a valium and hid in my room. Literally hid, behind my bed where no one could find me pulled up blogger and now here I am just waiting for the drugs to kick in before I have to go to work, pretend that I'm fine and, pretend that I care. When today I would rather curl up in a ball and hide from the world and pretend like I don't exist, pretend like the world doesn't exist.

I guess these past few weeks have just been stressful, tiring, full of unpleasant surprises; I guess that box was just the last straw that sent me over the edge.

I just really wish I didn't need to face the world today.
-meg.