Right now, I feel like my life is collapsing around me, like the house at the end of that horror movie (Amityville? Poltergeist?). Constricting. Squeezing. Crumpling like a piece of typing paper. Every breath is harder to take. I'm trapped.
I feel like I've had my crisis and now my friends have moved on: He's better now. He doesn't need our support, our calls, our invitations for weekend fun. Except I don't feel better. I feel like I could stay on my sofa forever ... or, at least, until my savings run out. I feel like a product of my WASP upbringing. Look perfect on the outside, while your insides crumble.
My tears taste sweet.