March 13th, 

Dear Diary, 

Well, today was shit. Nothing new there. 

My work day was overloaded - like usual, I dropped my coffee and stained my shirt, ripped a stocking and the guy I've been trying to be semi-serious with is only interested in having a lay. Now, after being unable to decompress on my own, I'm sitting here on my couch with a bottle of Chardonnay and my largest - and favorite of late - wine glass while I try to write away my sorrows and frustrations. So, here goes: 

My life feels like a giant mess pile in a contractor trash bag that I keep dragging behind me with no hope for the heaviness of its stress to lighten. 

I haven't gotten over my last break up yet - sad, I know - and it's just making me feel like I'm the most worthless person on the planet. I keep playing through what I did or where I went wrong but I keep coming blank then swap into these horrible bouts of self-loathing for not doing better at whatever the fuck was wrong. I keep thinking of him too. What he might be doing right now and constantly wondering if he is thinking of me at all. If he even cares about me to begin with? Etc, etc, etc. Insert standard sadness shit here, blah...

As you know, I struggle with trying to distract myself with other tasks or activities that might help take my mind off how unworthy I feel - and how much wine I've consumed in recent months - but nothing is helping. I can't even find someone who is willing to hold me for longer than a few hours, without it being in between meaningless sex. 

Hell, at this point, even a friend would be nice. Someone I can just talk to who would be willing to listen and make sure I don't die from alcohol poisoning - or loneliness, whichever gets me first. 

I don't know how in the world I got to this point in my life but Jesus Fucking Christ, it sucks.

I want my husband to come up behind me and hug me while I wash dishes in my sweats and an old, baby-stained, oversized t-shirt who never doubts that I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. I want to lie in bed with him on Christmas morning, giggling under the covers while we listen to our little ones slowly waking to see if Santa had shown up - even if we both had no sleep due to being up all night wrapping presents. I want to walk along the beach hand in hand with him while the bottoms of my rolled up jeans get soaking wet and the sand gets stuck between my toes, only to be washed away by the gently rolling waves that came up to meet us. 

I want those memories with someone so desperately and it hurts to think about not having them. Or to think of the chances I had lost to have them because of pettiness, jealousy, and insecurity. 

I don't even know how to end this diary entry, that's how pathetically off task I have become. But this is all I have energy and focus for tonight. The wine has since become my new BFF and I need a refill so TTFN, Diary. Perhaps I'll "wine" some more tomorrow. 

... wow. I even make shitty puns now. Another thing to be prideful of, no? 

See ya, 

T. Bailey