Hollowness: that I understand. I'm starting to believe that there isn't anything you can do to fix it. That's what I've taken from the therapy sessions: the holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mold yourself through the gaps

I want to drag knives over my skin, just to feel something other than shame, but I'm not even brave enough for that

To have my hopes raised and dashed again, it's like cold steel twisting in my gut.

We tell our stories differently, don't we, you and I?

I wake abruptly, my breath jagged and heart racing, my mouth stale, and I know immediately that's it. I'm awake. The more I want to be oblivious, the less I can be. Life and light will not let me be.

I'm well aware that there is no job more important than that of raising a child, but the problem is that it isn't valued.

A tiding of magpies: One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told

I want to drag knives over my skin, just so that I can feel something other than shame, but I'm not even brave enough to do that.

The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mold yourself through the gaps.

Life and light will not let me be.

That's my fault, of course, because I behaved stupidly, like a child, because I didn't like feeling rejected. I need to learn to lose a little better.

I sit there on the floor with the picture in front of me and think about how things get broken all the time by accident, and how sometimes you just don't get round to getting them fixed.

I don't remember things. I black out and I can't remember where I've been or what I've done. Sometimes I wonder if I've done or said terrible things, and I can't remember. And if...if someone tells me something I've done, it doesn't even feel like me. it doesn't feel like it was me who was doing that thing. And it's so hard to feel responsible for something you don't remember. So I never feel bad enough. i feel bad, but the thing that i've done --it's removed from me. It's like it doesn't belong to me.

I have lost control over everything, even the places in my head.

So who do I want to be tomorrow?

Let's be honest: women are still only really valued for two things--their looks and their role as mothers. I'm not beautiful, and I can't have kids, so what does that make me? Worthless.

Every time I think I'm about to seize the moment, it drifts back into the shadows, just beyond my reach.

As for him "feeling dead", that's probably just a consequence of him being gone from your life for so long. In some sense he no longer feels real to you.

If he does it with you, he'll do it to you.

Who's to say that once I run, I'll find that isn't enough? Who's to say I won't end up feeling exactly the way I do right now-not safe, but stifled? Maybe I'll want to run again, and again, and eventually I'll end up back on those old tracks, because there's nowhere left to go. Maybe. Maybe not. You have to take the risk, don't you

She's cuckoo, laying her egg in my nest.