Facade would be laughing; he saw this, the rest of me just wouldn't admit it at the time.
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I spent the last week having nightmares.
I found out earlier that in fact the nightmares? Coming true.
There's a houseful of people here, and I just can't deal with it, with any of them.
We're broke, again. I feel like I'm coming down with some fucked-up fever. I can't sleep. I can't really eat without throwing up afterward.
There is no shelter here, and I'm beginning to suspect there will be no shelter anywhere, not ever.
...I can't wait for june and hope to find some hint of a future there. I can't wait for july and watch her walk back out of my life. Hell, I can't even wait for tomorrow, for another useless attempt at getting through to him before he disappears completely. I can't do this. I'm not this strong. I wish I was, gods know I've been trying to be, but I'm NOT.
I never have been.
I've always been a scarred, scared, silver-furred feline with dead, dark eyes that only see the wrong sort of dreams and steel cuffs around her wrists to make sure she'll never forget where those dreams come from.
I can't even feel myself any more. I don't feel alive. I don't exist.
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