I just broke down in hysterics over a communication failure again.

Can't get the words together in an order that makes sense. Can't communicate. Can't say things that other people will understand.

Isolated.

Dialogue is existence.

Cannot . . . deal.

Cannot . . . fucking . . . deal.

Emotional stuff making me sick to my stomach again. He, she, it is nauseized.
brooksmoses: (Default)

From: [personal profile] brooksmoses


I didn't really think it was, although I suppose I didn't make it very clear. The wishing was more wishing for it because it would give you some sort of more solid existence-by-communication to hold on to to help you deal with whatever this is about.
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