I want to throw things. I don't have the will or focus for anything. I can't go back to sleep, not until he's home, at least. I'm burning inside, but I can't cry. When will I stop suffocating? I feel a fluttering, a curling at the back of my brain when I try to relax.

It's so strange to read these when I'm calm because they sound so ridiculously dramatic, yet they seem so accurate a reflection at the time. Even now someone might be rolling their eyes at the hyperbole. But...I can't really stop myself. I won't. I've chosen to see this as a sort of emotional spectrum journal. I can't ignore it.

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