I should make a map of these moods that keep returning. it's always this week of the month that I start to think all of this time will not help. none of this will be worth it. this will only end in ruin. but I will be the one to ruin it. I'll be the one to make it end. for fifteen months I've kept one foot poised just so slightly out the door. on days when I get angry I quietly pack up all my things (leave the toothbrush, some underwear and socks), but all so secretly that only I seem to notice, and tell myself and now I won't be coming back here. I swear I won't be coming back here. I feel like a crazy woman admitting this is what I do, and I think I must do it at least every month or two. I'm taking my things away, I'm taking my self away.
last year I began seeing a psychotherapist; I wanted some help getting my head clear. I had ended an abusive long-term relationship and had begun the promising one I'm in now. that first visit to the therapist I said this relationship is so good, but I don't know... every other minute I want to run out because I just don't know how to do this. it's good and I'm afraid it will end, and I'm afraid that I'm going to end it.
so, yeah.
it's the ill of the hour now as well.