I don’t know why I can’t tell you this

I’ve just got off the phone to you and I’m already crying again.

I should probably have told you I’m not doing well. It’s always the same when the pain is bad, and on that basis you probably could guess anyway.

Talking to you helped. Of course it did, it always does. I get to be normal for a bit. You listen to me, even when I’m talking about boring crap. You talk to me about random and not so random things that I like hearing about. And you make me laugh. Laughter feels so rare for me. At least genuine laughter is.

I don’t know why I didn’t tell you I’m struggling. I know you’d listen. But then I feel I don’t want to add to your stress by being too demanding, or telling you things you have no power to fix. But part of me wishes I had.

But I didn’t.

And now I am here, crying, and at a loss how to make myself feel any better.

That feeling of wanting a hug, wanting to be consoled. This weekend was so hard, far harder than I told you. I don’t know how I am going to get through what’s coming. I will somehow. I just feel so defeated right now. And painfully alone.